169  8446 


omance 


3  1822  01169  8446 

r 


PR 


It, 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 


THE  KOMANCE  OF 
THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 


BY 


OSWALD  KENDALL 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFL1N  COMPANY 

(Cbe  Rtoetaibe  pres*  Cambridge 


COPYRIGHT,   1916,  BY  PERRY  MASON  COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,  1916,   BY  OSWALD   KENDALL 

ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  October  igib 


TO 
EDGAR  F.  CYRIAX,  M.D. 

A  GOOD  DOCTOR  AND  A  SPLENDID  FBIEND 


CONTENTS 

I.  INTRODUCES  SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP       ...      1 

II.  DEPARTURE 27 

HE.  A  TEST  FOB  SHIP  AND  SEAMANSHIP     ....    51 

IV.  A  DIFFERENT  WORLU 71 

V.  UP  THE  AMAZON 96 

VI.  TROUBLE    .      .      .      .      .      .      ..........      .124 

VII.  THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS ,  144 

VHL  THE  BLOWQUN  INDIANS 168 

IX.  IN  WHICH  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR  RETREATS  STRATE- 
GICALLY   19? 

'  X.  A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS          .        .        .        .        .  217 

XI.  THE  GREAT  DISCOVERT      .      .      .     .     .     .      .  240 

XII.  DISAPPEARANCE  OF  CAPTAIN  HAWKS    .     .     „  s.  .  259 
Xm.  A  RAID  BY  NIGHT        .      .      .      ..."  .^  %  287 

XIV.  Two  AND  THREE  QUARTERS  MILLIONS  IN  GOLD  .     .  809 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  ALLIGATOR  WAS  IN  THE  Am  (page  158) .      .     Titie-Page 
"'ERE,  MISTEB  MATE,  WHERE'S  THIS  SEA  COMIN'  FROM?"    46 

A  TELL  CAME  FROM  THE  GALLEY 58 

"D'  TO'  WANT  TO  DIE  RIGHT  OFF?" 74 

"YOU  DID  IT  TO  SAVE  MT  LIFE" 138 

HE  RAN  HIM  WITH  GREAT  SPEED  INTO  THE  LAMP  LOCKER  .  192 
HE  BLEW  A  SHARP  BREATH  INTO  THE  GUN  ....  262 
THE  WATER  GREW  ROUGHER 282 

The  illustrations  are  by  George  Varian 


THE  ROMANCE  OF 
THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCES  SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP 

As  I  finished  winding  the  chronometers,  Captain 
Matthew  Hawks  entered  the  charthouse  of  the 
Martin  Connor  and  slapped  some  papers  down 
upon  the  desk. 

"I'm  through  with  the  whole  bunch,"  said  he 
with  a  restrained  emphasis  that  marked  an  en- 
deavour to  keep  his  temper,  as  he  glared  at  me 
with  keen,  cold,  grey  eyes.  "I  tell  you,  Grum- 
met, I'm  through  with  the  whole  bunch!"  — 
and  he  hit  the  pile  of  papers  a  smack  with  his 
open  hand. 

I  glanced  down  to  see  if  he  had  cracked  the  top 
of  the  desk  and  said:  "Yes,  sir,"  sympatheti- 
cally. 

"I  want  coal,"  continued  my 'commander. 

"Yes,  sir,  certainly." 

"  Coal  in  bunkers,  Grummet,  and  coal  in  num- 
ber two  hold." 

"  Yes,  sir.   Are  you  going  to  — " 

"Yes,  I  am!"  he  replied.  "I'm  going  to  start 


*  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

right  now.  Just  as  soon  as  I  can  get  under  weigh. 
I'll  wait  no  longer.  I'll  fool  around  no  longer. 
And  I'll  spend  no  more  good  money  in  graft." 

"What's  the  fresh  trouble,  sir?"  I  inquired. 

"Ever  hear  of  the  Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Com- 
pany, Grummet?" 

"There  has  been  a  good  deal  about  'em  in  the 
papers,  lately,  sir,  and  some  one  has  written  a 
book  in  which  he  calls  them  some  very  hard 
names." 

"He  has  my  sympathy,  though  he  couldn't 
call  'em  any  harder  names  than  I  have.  I  scared 
their  representative,  anyway.  I  scared  him  stiff. 
He  came  to  see  me  here  in  Galveston." 

I  grinned,  for  my  commander  was  a  large  man 
with  a  large-featured,  sunburned  face,  capable  of 
scaring  a  good  many  people  if  he  did  but  try.  In 
fact,  I  have  seen  him  scare  a  whole  ship's  crew 
into  semi-hysteria  more  than  once,  and  I  con- 
sidered it  likely  that  the  agent  for  the  Rio 
Maranon  Rubber  Company  had  been  through  a 
pretty  bad  time. 

"Was  he  a  Dago,  sir?"  I  asked. 

"No,  American,  from  New  York.  One  of  these 
smart  business  men  with  nose-glasses  and  pretty 
finger-nails.  I  made  him  jump.  I  kept  him  jump- 
ing. Grummet,  he's  jumping  now!  He  came 
down  here  thinking  I  was  just  a  Westerner,  a 
Calif ornian,  the  captain  of  a  small  cargo  tramp. 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP        3 

So  I  am.  But  I  'm  not  the  kind  he  thought  I  was. 
I  pretty  near  made  him  cry!  I  told  him  that  the 
company  he  represented  had  got  eighteen  hun- 
dred dollars  out  of  me  all  for  nothing,  and  I  was 
careful  to  explain  to  him  that  what  money  I  had 
I  have  made  for  myself.  I  was  quiet  enough  at 
first  and  I  let  him  talk.  Always  open  negotia- 
tions by  making  the  other  man  talk,  Grummet." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  He  threw  dollars  and  technicalities  at  me,  and 
tried  to  be  kind  to  me  and  explain  what  he 
meant,  because  I  am  only  a  shipmaster  and  could 
not  be  expected  to  know  all  the  rank  rotten  in- 
side workings  of  stock  markets  and  finance  gen- 
erally. When  he  had  finished  I  had  my  say.  I 
said:  'Look  you  here,  Mr.  Man,  your  company  is 
a  company  of  rogues,  robbers,  and  thieves,  and 
you  are  a  fit  representative  for  such  a  crowd.' ' 

"Did  you  open  up  on  him  that  way,  sir?"  I 
asked. 

"I  did,  Grummet;  that's  when  he  started  to 
jump !  I  asked  him  in  several  different  ways  why 
the  Rio  Maranon  Company  had  first  granted  me 
a  concession  to  trade  in  the  Upper  Amazon  coun- 
try and  had  then  withdrawn  the  concession.  I 
asked  him  why  the  reports  from  my  partner, 
Colonel  Ezra  Calvin,  who  is  on  the  spot,  had 
been  stopped  for  the  last  six  months.  And  then 
I  asked  him  plumb  out  what  the  Rio  Maranon 


4  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

had  done  to  or  with  Ezra,  and  he  could  n't  or 
would  n't  say  a  thing.  He  just  put  me  off  with  a 
stream  of  words!  Say!  Grummet!  These  busi- 
ness men  sure  can  talk  and  say  nothing!  So  I 
said  [here  my  commander  hit  the  charthouse 
desk  another  ringing  blow]:  'Quit  making  that 
noise  and  listen  to  me!  When  I  applied  to  the 
Government  of  Peru  and  the  Government  of 
Colombia  for  a  trading  concession,  they  referred 
me  to  your  company.  When  I  applied  to  your 
company,  they  referred  me  back  to  the  Govern- 
ments of  Peru  and  Colombia;  and  so  it  went  on 
for  months,  during  which  time  I  have  spent,  in 
all,  eighteen  hundred  good  American  dollars  for 

—  what!  I  get  my  concession,  finally.  In  con- 
sequence I  buy  my  trade  goods  —  more  money 
spent  —  and  then  when  all  is  ready  you  withdraw 
your  concession !  Now,  I  don't  mind  the  money, 

—  I  can  stick  that,  —  and  I  don't  so  much  fret 
over  all  the  bother.  But  what  does  trouble  me  is 
this  silence  of  my  partner,  Colonel  Ezra  Calvin.' 
Then,  after  a  lot  more  talk  (I  was  doing  the 
talking  then),  I  explained  just  what  I  was  going 
to  do,  for  I  have  no  intention  of  going  round 
behind  'em,  or  of  playin'  'em  any  mean  tricks 
whatever  they  may  have  done  to  me.  I  told  him 

—  that  business  man  with  the  nose-glasses  — 
that  I  had,  already,  a  charter  from  the  Rio 
Maloca  Rubber  Company  (which  company,  I 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP         5 

guess,  is  just  about  owned  by  the  Rio  Maranon 
people)  for  the  due  conveyance  of  certain  goods 
to  their  up-river  headquarters.  I  explained  that 
I  was  going  to  carry  that  out  as  an  ordinary  mat- 
ter of  business.  But  afterwards,  —  and  I  made 
,  this  clear  to  him,  —  afterwards  I  intended  to 
hunt  for  and  find  my  partner,  Colonel  Ezra  Cal- 
vin, and  when  I  had  found  him  I  intended  trad- 
ing upon  my  own  account." 

"Was  it  well  to  say  that,  sir?"  I  asked. 

"Why  not,  Grummet?  Snakes  alive!  Am  I  an 
infant  that  needs  a  nursemaid?  Are  you  and  the 
rest  of  the  crowd  on  this  ship  infants?  They 
can't  eat  us,  can  they?  This  is  an  American  ship, 
ain't  it?  There's  an  American  flag  at  her  stern, 
is  n't  there?  Well,  what  they  goin'  to  do,  — 
eh?" 

"It's  a  long  way  from  home,  up  that  river, 


sir." 


"It  sure  is.  But  what's  that  got  to  do  with  it? 
I  guess  you  and  I  have  been  a  long  way  from 
home  before,  Grummet,  you  and  I  and  that  little 
man  in  the  galley.  Theoretically,  I  should  go  to 
Washington,  and  I  should  say:  *  Please,  who  owns 
this  up-river  country  anyway?  Is  it  Peru?  Is  it 
Colombia?  Is  it  Ecuador?  Is(  it  Brazil?  Or  is 
it  this  Rio  Maranon  Company?  For  there's  a 
patch  of  land  up  there  about  the  size  of  Texas 
that  every  one  claims  and  which  nobody  rules, 


6  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

and  there  ain't  a  man  living  that  I  can  find  who 
knows  where  the  frontier  is.'  Then  Washington 
would  get  busy,  and  in  about  ten  years  I  'd  hear 
all  about  it.  Meanwhile,  what's  to  become  of  my 
partner  in  the  deal?  He  went  prospecting  for 
trade  up  the  Amazon  River  eighteen  months 
ago,  and  at  first  I  got  his  reports  regularly 
enough,  considering  the  difficulties.  Wherever 
he  went  he  met  with  opposition  and  trouble  ar- 
ranged by  this  Rio  Maranon  Company,  while  the 
last  two  letters  I  had  from  him  warned  me  that 
he  was  liable  to  find  himself  at  any  moment  in  a 
really  serious  fix.  As  they  have  already  robbed 
him  of  his  goods  and  threatened  his  life,  the  seri- 
ous fix  he  speaks  of  must  mean  something!" 

"And  you  have  n't  heard  from  him  for  six 
months,  sir?" 

"Not  a  word,  Grummet." 

"What  kind  of  a  man  is  he,  sir?" 

"A  piece  of  New  England  granite  with  all  the 
hard  corners  left  sticking  out  for  the  wrong  kind 
of  man  to  bump  up  against.  Except  that  he  is  a 
landsman  he 's  a  regular  Down-Easter  of  the  old 
sailing-packet  type  —  not  one  of  these  soft  mod- 
ern business  men  with  nose-glasses  that  live  in 
a  cage  near  the  sky  and  get  round-shouldered 
shouting  through  a  'phone  all  day  and  hah*  the 
night!  You'd  like  Calvin.  He's  what  Wilfred 
would  call  a  *  little  bit  of  All-Right.'  Not  that 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP         7 

he's  small.  He's  several  yards  high,  in  fact,  and 
he's  got  a  voice  on  him  like  the  sirens  at  Cape 
Race." 

"And  you  think  that  he  has  fallen  against  this 
rubber  trust  and  that  they  have  bottled  him,  sir?  " 

"Looks  like  it  to  me.  Moreover,  that  part  of 
the  world  is  less  explored  than  the  middle  of 
Africa,  and  where  we  are  going  is  some  hundreds 
of  miles  beyond.  I  have  been  busy  learning,  but 
I  can't  learn  much.  The  latest  maps  print  'La 
Montana'  over  a  stretch  the  size  of  the  Western 
States,  and  to  fill  in  the  gaps  the  geographers 
throw  in  a  river  or  two  the  size  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, —  rivers  which  may  or  may  not  be  there. 
The  main  Amazon  stream  is  all  right,  so  is  the 
main  Negro,  Madeira,  Yapura,  and  Putumayo, 
and  so  on.  The  tributary  streams,  however,  are 
a  different  story;  they  are  just  wherever  you  like 
to  put  them,  and  it's  up  a  tributary  of  a  tribu- 
tary that  we  are  bound." 

Captain  Hawks  paused  and  drummed  his 
fingers  upon  the  desk  before  him,  looking  out 
through  the  heavy  plate-glass  charthouse  win- 
dows down  upon  the  sun-bathed  main  deck  of 
the  Martin  Connor.  A  great  silence  filled  the 
empty  ship  "asleep  upon  her  iron,"  a  silence 
hardly  broken  by  the  soft  humming  of  the  trade 
wind  in  the  funnel  stays  and  wire  rigging  of  our 
stumpy  masts.  A  smell  of  boiling  ham  floated 


8  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

upwards  from  the  galley,  and  very  occasionally 
came  the  voice  of  our  cook  raised  in  song. 

"The  fact,"  continued  Captain  Hawks,  "that 
I  have  here  this  bona-fide  contract  with  the  Rio 
Maloca  Rubber  Company  to  carry  goods  to  their 
up-river  headquarters,  which  are  within  a  few 
hundred  miles  of  where  I  want  to  go;  and  the 
fact  that,  though  I  am  willing  to  pay  for  a  conces- 
sion, it  is  neither  refused  in  an  official  manner 
nor  granted  because  I  am  butting  into  the  Rio 
Maranon  rubber  trust,  have  decided  me  to  go 
ahead  and  do  my  trading  and  pay  for  my  con- 
cession afterwards  —  since  they  won't  let  me 
pay  for  it  now." 

"Meanwhile  they  will  drop  upon  us  as  poach- 
ers, sir." 

"Grummet,  don't  croak.  When  I  had  that 
contract  with  the  Liverpool  firm,  and  we  did  six- 
teen trips  across  the  Atlantic  up  and  down  Wa- 
tery Lane,  you  were  as  sick  of  it  as  I  was.  You 
likened  us  to  the  Cunard !  Well,  Mr.  Mate,  some 
years  ago,  before  I  went  into  steam,  you  and  I 
and  Cert'nly  Wilfred  in  the  Galley,  mighty  near 
froze  to  death  in  the  Arctic.1  We  are  now  going 
to  be  baked  and  boiled  and  stewed  to  death  by 
way  of  a  change." 

"Yes,  sir." 

1  See  Captain  Protheroe't  Fortune.    A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co., 
Chicago. 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP         9 

"Nothing  like  variety,  Grummet." 

"No,  sir.  What's  the  cargo  for  this  Rio  Ma- 
loca  Rubber  Company?" 

"Portable  buildings,  firearms,  ammunition, 
groceries,  drugs,  wines  and  spirits,  machetes, 
chemicals,  sewing  machines,  and  a  variety  of 
oddments  for  the  resident  manager  and  his 
friends.  The  resident  manager  is  a  German, 
Eichholz  by  name,  and  we  shall  pick  up  a  di- 
rector of  the  company  at  Para,  a  Dago  with  the 
adopted  English  name  of  —  now,  listen,  Grum- 
met —  Alonzo  Makepeace  Massingbird." 

"Thunder  and  lightning!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Just  so.  The  rest  of  the  cargo  will  be  similar 
in  character  and  will  include  phonographs,  look- 
ing-glasses, and  articles  of  adornment  for  the 
person  calculated  to  make  the  wearer  both  proud 
and  happy.  These  last  are  for  my  own  private 
trading,  which  trading,  Grummet,  need  not  be 
published  in  the  newspapers." 

I  nodded. 

"Meanwhile — coal,  Mr.  Mate;  coal  in  bunk- 
ers and  coal  in  number  two  hold." 

I  stepped  out  on  to  the  bridge-deck  to  issue  my 
orders,  leaving  Captain  Hawks  to  lock  away  his 
papers  in  the  ship's  safe.  To  riorth  and  west- 
ward, blue  in  the  distance,  was  the  row  of  piles 
marking  the  Government  Ship  Channel,  and  on 
the  left,  the  beacon  on  Edward  Point,  while  all 


10  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

about  us  stretched  the  vast  bay  of  Galveston 
shimmering  in  the  early  morning  light.  I  ran 
down  the  ladder  and  sought  our  chief  engineer, 
a  large-boned  Scotchman  named  Andrew  Kin- 
naird  McLushley,  a  man  who  possessed  a  su- 
preme knowledge  of  reciprocating  machinery,  a 
bitter  and  sardonic  humour,  a  red-rimmed  fight- 
ing eye,  and  a  passion  for  the  poetry  of  Mrs. 
Felicia  Hemans.  I  found  him  seated  in  an  oil- 
stained  canvas  deck-chair  cleaning  out  a  black- 
looking  briar  oipe  that  had  seen  much  service. 

"Have  you  any  steam,  Mr.  McLushley?"  I 
asked. 

"I  have  an*  I  have  not,  Mr.  Grummet,"  re- 
plied the  Scotchman  with  all  the  caution  that 
marked  his  most  trivial  utterance;  "there  's 
plenty  in  the  winches  for  the  last  twa  days, 
awaitin*  ye'r  orrd'rs  that  did  not  come." 

"We  are  going  inshore  to  coal,"  said  I. 

"Then  I  '11  have  ye  enough  to  move  her  wi* 
inside  the  hour."  And  he  rose  stiffly,  removed 
his  steel-rimmed  spectacles  from  his  battered 
nose,  pocketed  his  pipe,  and  clattered  down  into 
the  warm,  echoing  deeps  of  the  ship,  where  I 
heard  his  harsh,  rasping  voice  calling  his  second 
and  his  third  assistants. 

Captain  Hawks  returned  ashore  in  a  launch, 
leaving  the  ship  to  me.  I  got  our  temporary  crew 
to  work  laying  out  wire  hawsers,  and  in  less  than 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP       11 

an  hour  Mr.  McLushley  whistled  up  the  bridge- 
tube  and  delivered  the  concise  and  cryptic  mes- 
sage: "Can  do." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  McLushley,"  I  replied,  and 
replaced  the  whistle.  "Mr.  Hanks,"  I  contin- 
ued, to  our  young  New  England  second  mate,  — 
"Mr.  Hanks,  get  the  hook  up." 

The  Martin  Connor  was  as  easy  to  handle  as 
a  perambulator.  She  would  sometimes  actually 
seem  to  wriggle  her  ugly  little  hull  into  places 
without  orders  once  she  understood  what  it  was 
you  wanted.  I  brought  her  over  and  under  the 
coal  tips  as  though  she  had  been  a  canoe.  She 
was  a  small  iron  tramp  steamer,  as  unlovely  as  a 
factory  and  as  sound  as  a  bell.  As  well  as  being 
the  means  by  which  Captain  Hawks  (her  sole 
owner)  made  his  living,  she  was  also  his  pride 
and  his  hobby,  and  he  yearly  spent  upon  her  up- 
keep a  sum  of  money  that  would  have  opened 
the  eyes  of  some  of  these  owners  of  six-  and 
eight-thousand-ton  tramps  in  the  Western  Ocean 
trade.  And  this  was  not  because  such  a  sum  was 
imperatively  necessary,  but  because  it  was  Cap- 
tain Hawks's  positive  joy  to  have  an  absolutely 
sound  ship  beneath  him. 

"Efficiency  is  my  religion,"'  he  used  to  say, 
"and  it's  not  a  bad  religion  either." 

The  Martin  Connor  was  an  eighteen-hundred- 
ton  tramp,  two  hundred  and  ten  feet  long,  by 


12  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

twenty-nine  feet  ten  inches  in  beam,  by  twelve 
feet  three  inches  in  draught,  with  an  average 
speed  of  fourteen  knots  at  sea.  You  will  note  from 
these  figures  that  she  was  no  Aquitanial  But 
she  possessed  an  equipment  of  labour-saving  de- 
vices and  working  conveniences  seldom  found  in 
ships  five  times  her  size.  Amongst  these  must  be 
ranked  a  most  modern  and  complete  set  of  en- 
gine-room auxiliaries,  a  searchlight  (of  a  com- 
mercial pattern)  upon  her  upper  bridge,  sub- 
marine signalling  apparatus  that  alarmed  us 
greatly  until  we  got  used  to  it,  self-trimming 
hatches,  electric  light  throughout,  cold  storage 
for  ship's  food,  steam  steering  gear,  of  course, 
with  screw  gear  aft,  a  direct  steam  windlass,  a 
horizontal  multi-tubular  donkey  boiler,  some 
steam  derricks  for  working  cargo,  a  patent  suc- 
tion-working ash  ejector  that  made  a  sound  like 
a  young  earthquake  and  which  was  the  pride 
of  Mr.  McLushley.  But  over  the  excellences  of 
her  engine-room  I  will  not  pause,  as  being  too 
technical,  though  Mr.  McLushley,  whose  every 
wish  was  gratified,  would  dissertate  profoundly 
upon  his  latest  acquisition,  which  was,  if  I  re- 
member, some  single-action  furnace  fronts  that 
"Gave  a  maxeemum  o'  pow'rr  wi'  a  meenimum 
o'  coal  consumption,  a  larrge  airr-cooled  passage 
afforrd'n*  a  high  furrnace  eeffeeciency." 

Somewhere  in  the  business  section  of  Galves- 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP       13 

ton  Captain  Hawks  was  tempestuously  at  work, 
and  the  results  of  his  activity  arrived  in  a  con- 
tinuous stream  of  articles  to  be  prepared  for  and 
received  by  me.  Nor  were  inanimate  objects 
all.  For  shortly  before  midday  there  arrived  on 
board  a  certain  Captain  Alexander  Esterkay, 
an  old  friend  of  my  commander's.  He  was  com- 
ing with  us,  apparently,  and  he  strolled  aboard 
as  though  all  eternity  lay  unruffled  before  him, 
followed  by  a  very  small  boy  who,  in  turn,  was 
followed  by  two  negro  porters  carrying  dunnage. 
Captain  Esterkay  bowed  to  me  with  the  utmost 
politeness  (he  was  a  Southerner  of  the  most 
Southern),  paid  the  negroes  more  than  they  were 
entitled  to,  and  giving  a  bunch  of  keys  to  the 
very  small  boy  (whom  he  called  "Twocents") 
he  bade  him  unpack  the  trunks. 

The  next  arrival  on  board  the  Martin  Connor 
after  Captain  Esterkay  and  Twocents,  was  a 
thirty-five-foot  light-draught  power  boat,  and 
with  her  came  many  barrels  of  liquid  fuel.  I  had 
known  nothing  of  this  launch  until  she  was  on 
the  wharf  and  a  negro  teamster  was  asking  me 
where  I  wanted  her,  much  as  though  he  had 
brought  a  sewing  machine  or  a  typewriter.  This 
evidence  of  hurry  was  no  new  thing  with  Cap- 
tain Matthew  Hawks,  who,  being  shipowner  as 
well  as  shipmaster,  hated  demurrage  twice  over. 

"A  motor  boat?"  I  asked  the  negro,  "for  us?" 


14  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"Yes,  sab,"  replied  the  teamster  with  the 
cheerful  air  of  one  who  finds  joy  in  presenting 
problems  for  other  people  to  settle. 

Had  it  been  a  giraffe  stuffed  and  mounted,  I 
would  have  accepted  it  and  made  preparations 
for  its  reception.  So  in  due  course  the  launch 
—  a  long,  elegant,  canvas-covered  craft  —  was 
stowed  away.  Then  came  the  liquid  fuel  and 
trouble  in  the  shape  of  a  hawk-eyed  insurance 
official  who  quoted  section  A-  this  from  sec- 
tion B-that  with  regard  to  the  shipment  of 
petroleum,  paroid  roofing,  ferro-silicon,  me- 
tallic sodium,  and  nitre  cake.  Apparently  he 
was  paid  by  the  amount  he  talked,  and  I  could 
have  cheerfully  heaved  him  over  the  side  into 
the  dock.  But  at  length  I  stowed  the  fuel  even 
to  his  satisfaction  and  we  parted  without  un- 
necessary ceremony. 

Few  landsmen  realize  the  amount  of  work 
which  is  entailed  by  the  departure  of  a  ship  from 
harbour  bound  upon  a  long  voyage.  There  is  an 
endless  procession  of  detail  to  be  attended  to  — 
that  must  be  attended  to  at  once.  The  larger 
half  devolves  upon  the  mate,  usually  a  much- 
harassed  man  who  carries  round  with  him  a  sheaf 
of  papers  in  his  hand,  an  indelible  pencil  behind 
one  ear,  and  imperfectly  concealed  wrath  in  his 
bosom.  My  subordinate,  Timothy  Hanks,  the 
second  mate,  was  a  concentrated  product  of 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP       15 

New  England,  a  serious,  conscientious  young 
man  without  a  grain  of  conscious  humour  in  his 
composition.  He  was  a  splendid  worker  and 
never  knew  when  he  was  tired  —  or,  at  least,  he 
never  let  me  know  it,  and  I  worked  him  hard 
enough !  But  final  decisions  must  come  from  me, 
while  there  was  the  knowledge  that  I,  in  turn, 
was  responsible  to  the  captain.  So  I  do  not  sup- 
pose that  I  was  in  a  particularly  good  temper. 
What  I  might  describe  as  a  "ramping  bustle" 
pervaded  the  ship,  and,  as  a  minor  ill,  there  was 
a  humming  southerly  breeze  that  swept  all  the 
litter  and  dust  from  the  wharf  on  board  and 
which  smarted  in  the  eyes  and  gritted  between 
the  teeth  and  was  a  continual  source  of  petty 
aggravation. 

All  the  same,  when  our  new  crew  arrived, 
shepherded  by  their  boatswain,  —  the  latter  the 
most  gigantic  man  I  have  ever  seen,  —  I  had 
time  to  note,  with  a  roving  and  preoccupied 
eye,  how  instantly,  almost  ferociously,  they  fell 
to  work.  Pausing  a  moment  I  wondered  greatly 
where  my  commander  had  found  such  men. 
These  were  no  sailors'  boarding-house  produc- 
tions, mutinous  and  incapable,  and  with  the 
single  exception  of  the  negro'  carpenter  they 
were  Anglo-Saxon  to  a  man.  Then  I  recollected 
the  far-off  and  formidable  Rio  Maranon  Rubber 
Company,  and  I  smiled  to  myself.  Such  men 


16  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

as  these  were  just  precisely  what  a  shipmaster 
would  wish  for  when  embarking  upon  an  uncer- 
tain enterprise. 

With  such  material  to  work  with,  a  frenzy  of 
industry  possessed  the  second  mate.  Used  to 
the  necessity  of  driving  his  men,  I  remarked, 
with  inward  amusement,  his  puzzled  and  em- 
barrassed air  when  all  his  orders  were  carried  out 
with  a  clattering  rush.  He  was  even  disconcerted 
as  a  man  might  be  who,  expecting  to  lift  a  weight 
finds  no  weight  at  all. 

There  was,  of  course,  the  small  army  of  credi- 
tors to  settle  with,  and  I,  owing  to  my  long  inti- 
macy with  my  commander,  was  empowered  to 
deal  and  dispute  with  them.  Three  dollars  and 
seventy-five  cents  due  for  the  privilege  of  warpr 
ing  a  shore-line  across  somebody's  frontage, 
somebody  who  saw  in  this  the  possibility  of  a 
gross  financial  gain;  four  dollars  and  eighty  cents 
for  a  drum  of  particular  paint;  eight  dollars  for 
this;  two  dollars  for  that;  ten  dollars  for  the  other; 
and  one  irascible  individual  who  affirmed  that 
the  noise  of  our  winches  had  frightened  his  horse 
which  in  consequence  had  run  away  and  smashed 
up  a  new  buggy,  for  which  he  was  going  to  law 
to  claim  damages  unless  he  got  five  dollars,  cash 
down,  on  the  spot  in  settlement.  It  did  not  take 
long  to  see  him  over  the  side,  where  he  remained 
on  the  wharf  shouting  insults  until  our  cook 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP       17 

drove  him  away  with  lumps  of  coal  delivered 
with  remarkable  accuracy  of  aim. 

In  the  background  of  my  absorbed  perturba- 
tion was  Captain  Alexander  Esterkay,  a  placid, 
bland,  rotund  figure,  with  a  straw-coloured, 
sun-bleached,  flowing  mustache,  soft  Southern 
speech,  and  a  never-failing  politeness.  He  effaced 
himself  with  the  great  effacement  of  a  ship- 
master in  a  vessel  other  than  his  own.  He  was  a 
calm  influence  in  that  turmoil,  an  oasis  of  peace 
to  turn  to,  a  gently  emphatic  and  positive  proof 
that  all  was  really  well  with  the  world  in  spite  of 
misleading  appearances.  He  gave  me  a  most  ex- 
cellent cigar  which  soothed  my  spirits  and  which 
pleased  the  palate;  which  gave  me  a  moment 
while  puffing  it  to  think  before  answering  the 
never-ending  inquiries.  That  is  the  practical 
assistance  of  a  cigar! 

Captain  Esterkay  was,  in  most  respects,  the 
laziest  man  on  earth,  and  he  was,  also,  one  of 
the  nicest.  Throughout  that  cruise,  even  while 
piloting  us  in  the  Amazon,  he  sprawled  away  the 
hours  in  a  deck-chair,  a  large,  unbuttoned  figure, 
blond  and  weather-stained.  Somewhere  hidden 
behind  his  misleading  exterior  there  lurked  an 
artistic  appreciation  for  contrasts.  This,  per- 
haps, had  more  than  a  little  to  do  with  his  un- 
premeditated adoption  of  Twocents,  who  was 
the  very  antithesis  of  himself.  There  had  been 


18  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

generous  motives  at  work  as  well,  and  an  ami- 
able vagueness  of  purpose.  He  had  considered, 
no  doubt,  in  an  indefinite  sort  of  way,  that  the 
boy  would  be  useful  to  fetch  cigars  from  the  cabin, 
or  his  large  green-lined  umbrella  which  he  used 
to  protect  himself  from  the  disintegrating  feroc- 
ity of  a  tropical  sun,  or  just  to  sit  about  and 
listen  while  he  talked,  for  that  elderly  and  cor- 
pulent mariner  was  drawlingly  garrulous  to  a 
degree.  A  malady  of  inertia  had  beset  him  in 
early  middle  life,  when  he  had  discovered  it  too 
much  trouble  to  wear  his  false  teeth,  and  the 
years  spent  in  extra-tropical  regions  had  but 
emphasized  a  strong  natural  tendency  to  sit  in 
the  shade  between  meals.  Thus  Twocents  would 
be  valuable  to  fetch  and  carry. 

The  boy  was  fifteen  years  old,  and  when  he 
first  came  aboard  he  was  incredibly  thin  and 
slight.  His  connection  with  Captain  Esterkay 
had  been  effected  through  the  medium  of  Cap- 
tain Esterkay's  peculiarly  high-crowned  straw 
hat  which  a  lively  trade  wind  had  flicked  from 
his  pink  bald  head  and  set  rolling  down  the 
street.  Twocents  happened  to  be  near,  and, 
hearing  the  captain's  open  offer  of  a  nickel  for 
his  hat,  had  set  off  at  once  in  chase,  swoop- 
ing upon  the  headgear  as  a  hawk  swoops  upon 
a  dove,  returning  with  the  captain's  hat  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye.  This  agility  had  so  much 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP       19 

impressed  Captain  Esterkay,  who  found  loco- 
motion an  irksome  problem  upon  all  occasions, 
that  the  germ  of  an  idea  had  come  to  him  as  he 
changed  the  promised  nickel  to  a  ten-cent  piece. 

"  Yo'  kin  move  lively,  s-o-n,"  he  had  remarked, 
taking  his  hat  from  the  boy  and  offering  the 
dime,  while,  with  his  kindly,  watery  blue  eyes, 
he  had  gazed  downward  over  the  horizon  of  his 
rotundity  and  observed  the  fact  that  behind  the 
boy's  street-bred  alertness  there  had  lurked  a 
nice  expression. 

"An*  yo'  look  as  though  a  meal'd  do  you  no 
harm,"  he  had  added.  "  Yo'a  Galveston  k-i-d?" 

"No,  sir,  N'York,"  Twocents  had  replied, 
looking  very  straightly  up  and  grinning,  while 
the  captain,  with  methodical  force,  had  jammed 
his  high-crowned  straw  hat  upon  his  head.  "  Yer 
wants  a  string  to  that  hat." 

"I  do,"  Captain  Esterkay  had  agreed  with 
complete  gravity;  "but  if  yo'  are  a  Noo  York 
kid,  h-a-o-w  — " 

"  Alston  Seal's,"  had  replied  Twocents  proudly, 
but  still  grinning  merrily,  for  it  is  possible  for 
some  natures  to  grin  with  even  an  empty  stom- 
ach beneath  it.  "The  show  broke  up  at  Vicks- 
burg,"  added  the  boy. 

"  O-h !  Circus ! "  the  captain  had  replied;  "yo* 
are  a  kid  from  a  circus?" 

"You  got  it,"  Twocents  had  answered,  nod- 


20  THE  MARTIN   CONNOR 

ding  his  head  briskly  a  number  of  times  to  drive 
the  point  home,  and  still  smiling  brightly. 

"An*  when  the  show  broke  up,  did  they  just 
turn  a  kid  like  yo'  loose  to  starve?" 

"Yessir,"  Twocents  replied  cheerfully. 

"Well,  I  gaise  some  folks  jus'  deserve  all  that's 
coming  to  'em  later  on,"  was  the  captain's  com- 
ment as  the  germ  of  the  idea  that  had  come  to 
him  grew  towards  hatching  point. 

"An'  yo'  folks  all  'way,  'way  off  in  Noo York?  " 

"Ain't  got  no  folks,"  had  replied  Twocents, 
as  though  such  were  the  happiest  of  circum- 
stances. 

"Are  yo'  lyin',  k-i-d?"  had  enquired  the  cap- 
tain with  unmoved  placidity,  his  blue  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  boy. 

"Sure  not." 

"What  was  yo'  in  the  show?" 

"Number  Two,  Belsize  Trio,  Trapeze  Art- 
ists," Twocents  had  answered  with  pride. 

"Which  means  just  acrobat,  I  s'pose.  And 
ain't  yo'  got  no  place  to  go,  s-o-n?"  had  then 
enquired  the  captain  as  the  idea  in  his  head 
hatched  itself  and  came  into  being. 

"  Me  and  de  gang  sleeps  around  de  wharves, 
mostly." 

"I  see,  an*  yo'  will  sleep  in  jail  by  'nd  by," 
was  the  captain's  imperturbably  calm  reply  as 
the  idea  in  his  mind  now  steadily  approached 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A   SHIP       21 

the  resolution  stage.  "Want  something  to  eat, 
s-o-n?" 

"Sure!" 

"Then  yo'  come  right  along  with  me,"  was 
the  captain's  order  as  he  got  himself,  in  his  high- 
crowned  straw  hat,  his  crushed  linen  suit,  and 
his  waistcoat  of  robin's-egg  blue,  in  motion,  and 
the  boy,  still  looking  upward  and  still  grinning, 
trotted  at  his  side. 

Captain  Esterkay  marching,  and  Twocents 
trotting,  thus  made  then*  way  to  an  establish- 
ment where  meals  could  be  had  for  twenty-five 
cents,  and  full  meals  too.  The  place  was  called 
"The  Mercantile,"  and  it  contained  a  free- 
spirited  negro  waiter,  a  reek  of  food,  and  a  great 
buzzing  multitude  of  flies.  Twocents  crowded 
in  behind  the  captain,  for  owing  to  long  intimacy 
with  pitiless  circumstances  the  boy  entertained 
profound  misgiving  of  ever  receiving  anything 
for  nothing,  and  he  therefore  stuck  close  to  his 
new-found  friend  and  hoped  for  the  best. 

"Now,  s-o-n  — "  had  begun  the  captain,  se- 
dately revolving,  while  Twocents,  anxious  to 
follow  wherever  he  might  lead,  revolved  with 
him. 

"Where  th*  mischief  is  ...  oh,  here  yo'  are!" 
and  the  captain  had  laid  a  fat,  sun-tanned, 
bleached-haired  hand  upon  the  boy's  shoulder 
and  had  thereupon  whistled  loudly. 


22  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"Have  yo'  got  no  meat  on  yo'  bones  at  all?" 
he  had  exclaimed.  Then,  with  sudden  energy  he 
had  thrust  the  boy  down  upon  a  wooden  bench 
facing  a  table  stained  with  food. 

"Sit  and  eat!"  had  commanded  the  captain, 
then  looked  round  with  quick  authority  for  the 
free-spirited  negro  waiter. 

To  be  confronted  with  evidences  of  privation 
had  made  that  placid  mariner  oddly  angry,  and 
he  hailed  the  waiter  in  a  "  maintop  "  voice.  When 
the  negro  arrived  and  was  inclined  to  be  imper- 
tinent, the  captain  had  promptly  reduced  him 
to  a  simmering  state  of  nervous  obedience  by  a 
full-toned  blast  of  speech  that  must  have  pro- 
claimed the  captain's  presence  and  profession 
both  within  and  without  the  building. 

Twocents,  in  his  own  way,  was  an  instinctive 
judge  of  character,  and  after  some  years'  lamen- 
table experience  in  a  third-rate  circus  his  opin- 
ion of  mankind  could  not  be  of  the  highest.  But 
in  Captain  Alexander  Esterkay  he  had  become 
instinctively  aware  of  a  difference  from  the  men 
he  was  accustomed  to,  and  this  difference  had 
made  the  boy  respectful,  though  hitherto  Two- 
cents  had  only  been  respectful  through  fear. 

The  captain,  lighting  a  powerful  cigar  to  save 
himself  a  little  from  the  reek  of  cooking,  had 
then  seated  himself  with  tender  deliberation  and 
much  caution  upon  an  inadequate  stool,  and  had 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP       23 

watched  the  boy  eating  while  a  new  gravity  came 
to  his  kindly  eyes.  From  the  negro,  who  had  by 
then  learned  that  it  was  best  to  hover  at  the 
captain's  elbow,  he  had  ordered  one  dish  after 
another,  and  had  thrust  them  across  the  table 
to  Twocents  who  had  speechlessly  absorbed  the 
food.  Being  by  nature  an  easy-going  man,  this 
spectacle  of  real  necessity  in  a  boy  so  young  and 
slight  had  caused  the  captain  positive  discom- 
fort, and  it  had  not  been  until  Twocents  paused 
to  breathe  that  the  elderly  man's  attention  had 
relaxed.  Then  briskly  demanding  a  fresh  sup- 
ply he  had  arranged  the  dishes  in  a  tempting 
semicircle  and  had  coaxed  in  his  soft,  drawling 
voice  — 

"Yo*  eat  some  more,  k-i-d.  Don'  yo*  stop. 
Keep  right  along  now.  This  wedge  o*  pie?  " 

And  Twocents,  with  his  eyes  fixed  in  solemn 
resolution,  had  begun  afresh,  and  the  captain 
had  continued  to  watch  with  almost  breathless 
interest  and  anxiety. 

But  finally,  the  laws  which  ordain  that  the 
finite  capacity  of  any  vessel  is  limited  in  propor- 
tion to  its  size,  and  that  two  or  more  objects 
cannot  occupy  the  same  space  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  had  brought  Twocents  to  a  gasping 
stop,  and  the  captain,  looking  happy,  had  paid 
the  bill. 

Outside  in  the  clean  wind  and  bright  sunlight, 


24  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

Captain  Esterkay  had  breathed  deeply.  He  was 
a  man  who  appreciated  more  than  a  little  the 
great  culinary  art,  and  he  must  have  suffered 
considerably  in  that  cheap  eating-house.  He 
had  then  looked  down  at  Twocents,  who,  walk- 
ing silently  barefoot  at  his  side,  was  experiencing 
for  the  first  time  in  a  considerable  period  the 
sensations  of  satiety.  Something  in  the  boy's 
obedience,  in  his  taking  for  granted  that  where 
the  captain  led  he  must  follow,  and  something 
too  in  his  extreme  slenderness,  had  affected  the 
elderly  man  in  a  curiously  emotional  way.  Cap- 
tain Esterkay  had  never  married;  he  was  without 
kith  or  kin,  and  the  possessive  instinct  within  him 
had  never  been  satisfied  and  was  then  aroused, 
almost  assaulted,  by  the  evidences  of  implicit 
trust  hi  one  whose  whole  appearance  was  youth- 
fully pathetic. 

"In  five  years'  time  he'll  probably  be  no  kind 
o'  good  to  himself  or  any  one  else  —  that  is 
likely,"  had  thought  the  captain,  "unless — " 
and  the  idea  in  his  head  had  then  arrived  at  the 
point  of  resolution  with  a  rush. 

Though  I  believe  that  Twocents  spoke  the 
exact  truth  when  he  said  that  he  was  without  a 
home,  the  captain,  with  a  large  experience  and 
a  still  larger  tolerant  understanding  of  human- 
ity, had  considered  the  statement  open  to  doubt. 
But  even  if  he  had  a  home  somewhere,  the  cap- 


SOME  PEOPLE  AND  A  SHIP       25 

tain  considered  that  its  evidences  were  such  as 
to  justify  the  step  which  he  was  about  to  take, 
for  with  him,  at  any  rate,  the  boy  would  be 
properly  clothed  and  fed. 

He  would  also  be  taught  to  work. 

As  clothing  was  the  next  item  to  be  consid- 
ered, the  captain  had  then  backed  his  tops'ls 
before  an  emporium  where  machine-made  cloth- 
ing festooned  the  front  like  banners  in  prepara- 
tion for  a  civic  procession.  With  unhurried  pre- 
cision he  had  purchased  six  small  cotton  shirts 
and  three  pairs  of  overalls,  which  last  were  of  a 
comprehensive  nature,  having  an  upper  exten- 
sion and  shoulder  straps,  the  ingenious  device, 
I  believe,  of  a  gentleman  in  Virginia.  A  warm 
jacket  was  added,  and  a  pair  of  gum  boots,  some 
shoes  and  socks,  and  two  canvas  hats  were 
added  to  the  jacket,  the  whole  being  then  made 
into  a  parcel  and  given  to  Twocents  to  carry 
in  round-eyed  silence,  his  usual  street-bred 
glibness  of  tongue  and  quick  impertinence  sud- 
denly deserting  him  before  the  captain's  unruf- 
fled, uncondemning,  and  irresistible  authority  of 


manner. 

M 


Now,"  had  concluded  Captain  Esterkay,  as 
he  paused  for  the  last  time,  "d*  yo'  want  a  job 
with  me?  Two  dollars  a  week  an*  yo'  keep?" 

"Yessir!"  had  been  Twocents's  prompt  reply, 
and  less  than  an  hour  later  they  had  come 


26  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

aboard  the  Martin  Connor,  followed  by  the  negro 
porters  carrying  the  captain's  dunnage  as  I  have 
described. 

That  is  how  Twocents  came  among  us,  and 
he  stayed  to  win  our  affection  and  to  lay  for 
himself  the  foundations  of  a  fine  man  and  a 
sailor. 


CHAPTER  H 

DEPARTURE 

IN  the  trying  and  intricate  business  of  preparing 
the  Martin  Connor  for  sea,  I  had  been  greatly 
assisted  by  our  cook,  a  cook  for  princes  and  a 
prince  of  cooks.  He  was  a  very  old  friend  and 
attended  to  the  stores  himself.  There  was, 
therefore,  a  lot  taken  off  my  shoulders,  for  I 
knew  that  Wilfred  Gee,  or  "Cert'nly  Wilfred," 
as  he  was  called,  was  more  than  capable  of  deal- 
ing with  any  victualling  firm  in  Galveston  or 
elsewhere.  There  are  few  firms,  indeed,  supply- 
ing the  large  orders  given  by  ships  for  frozen 
meat,  groceries  by  the  ton,  and  other  commis- 
sariat details,  that  can  be  implicitly  trusted  to 
give  full  measure  in  every  particular  of  a  list 
running  into  hundreds  of  dollars.  A  sack  or  two 
of  flour,  a  pound  or  two  of  coffee,  salt,  sugar,  or 
tea,  is  easily  missed  when  these  are  ordered  in 
the  large  quantities  necessary  to  feed  thirty- 
eight  or  forty  men  for  a  period  of  four  or  six 
months.  In  fact,  though  it  may  not  be  apparent, 
the  victualling  of  even  a  small  ship  for  a  lengthy 
voyage,  where  no  fresh  supplies  can  be  had  with 
any  certainty,  approaches  the  region  of  science, 


28  THE  MARTIN   CONNOR 

and  requires  experience,  accuracy,  and  thought. 
Beyond  signing  the  necessary  cheques,  Captain 
Hawks  never  worried  himself  with  this  depart- 
ment, for  my  commander's  method  was  to  pro- 
cure the  services  of  the  best  men  he  could  find, 
pay  them  well,  feed  them  well,  and  shovel  work 
and  responsibility  in  full  measure  upon  their 
shoulders. 

It  is  a  good  system. 

Before  starting  upon  a  cruise,  Captain  Hawks 
would  summon  Cert'nly  Wilfred  to  the  cabin, 
where  the  little  man  would  arrive  with  notebook 
and  pencil  and  a  certain  dry  ceremony  of  man- 
ner; the  proceedings  then  opened  with  the  pres- 
entation of  a  cigar  which  Wilfred  would  adjust 
delicately  behind  his  right  ear  to  be  smoked  at  a 
later  date.  With  such  necessary  information  as 
the  probable  duration  of  the  forthcoming  cruise, 
the  probable  risks  of  the  cruise  taking  longer 
from  unforeseen  circumstances,  and  the  possi- 
bility or  otherwise  of  replenishing  stores  upon 
the  way  put  down  in  his  book,  Cert'nly  Wilfred 
would  then  retire  to  his  own  domain  to  work  out 
his  requirements.  This  done,  the  little  man,  in 
shore-going  clothes  and  a  hard  felt  hat,  would 
sally  forth  to  invite  tenders  and  spend  a  merry 
day.  He  displayed  the  greatest  acumen  in  setting 
one  firm  against  another,  in  obtaining  still  fur- 
ther reductions  in  contracts,  and  in  the  minute 


DEPARTURE  29 

and  particular  examination  of  every  detail  sent 
aboard.  The  stores  were  always  right  to  the  cent 
and  the  ounce,  or,  at  least,  the  ship  benefited 
by  any  error  and  never  the  contractor.  And  if 
any  dispute  arose,  Wilfred  would  not  come  to 
me  to  settle  it  for  him;  he  would  settle  it  him- 
self with  the  galley  poker  or  anything  else  that 
was  hard  and  handy. 

Cert'nly  Wilfred  first  saw  the  light  of  day  in 
Hack  Street,  Tidal  Basin,  North  Woolwich, 
London,  E.,  and  from  an  early  date  he  was  con- 
nected with  the  alimentary  world.  As  first  assist- 
ant to  a  cousin  in  the  shrimp  and  winkle  trade 
he  developed  a  profound  sagacity  in  the  prepara- 
tion and  improvement  of  matter  for  human  con- 
sumption, and  at  seventeen  he  owned  and  ran  a 
coffee-stall  just  off  the  Shadwell  High  Street.  It 
was  here  that  he  first  saw  the  wide  possibilities 
afforded  by  the  culinary  art,  and  in  less  than  a 
year  he  sold  his  coffee-stall  and  pitch  at  a  fifty 
per  cent  profit  as  being  altogether  unworthy  of 
his  talents.  He  could  do  better;  he  knew  it,  and 
he  did. 

As  all  persons  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes  who 
reside  and  have  their  being  in  that  district,  of 
which  Tidal  Basin  is  but  a  particle,  are  con- 
nected either  remotely  or  directly  with  the  sea 
and  ships,  it  was  only  natural  that  Cert'nly  Wil- 
fred's career  should  be  flavoured  by  a  strong 


30  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

marine  influence  from  the  first.  A  distant  rela- 
tive upon  his  mother's  side  (his  mother  was  a 
large  and  generous-souled  woman  who  never 
left  London  from  the  day  of  her  marriage  to  the 
day  of  her  death,  fifty  years  of  prolific  and  vol- 
uble life)  owned  and  ran  a  collier  brig  from  New- 
castle, and  hi  his  humble  coaster  Wilfred,  just 
eighteen,  assumed  his  first  position  of  sea  cook. 
In  a  little  under  two  years  he  dropped  this,  too, 
knowing  this,  as  he  had  known  the  coffee-stall, 
to  be  unworthy  of  his  talent. 

Being  by  temperament  one  who  makes  either 
violent  enemies  or  close  friends,  and  being  in- 
stinctively drawn  to  the  sea,  he  next  took  charge 
of  the  galley  in  an  ocean-going  tramp,  and  made 
his  acquaintance,  at  a  larger  salary,  with  the 
larger  world.  After  a  year  and  a  half  of  this  em- 
ploy, during  which  time  his  natural  gift  for  cook- 
ery had  grown  naturally  and  without  effort,  the 
ship  fell  in  with  the  yacht  of  an  American  who 
owned  more  miles  of  railroad  than  he  could  hope 
to  remember.  The  yacht  had  suffered  during  a 
prolonged  gale,  was  in  a  sinking  condition,  and 
the  immediate  transhipment  of  her  people  was 
imperative.  The  transhipment  was  effected,  and 
the  family  and  friends  of  the  millionaire  suffered 
considerable  discomfort  in  the  rough  surround- 
ings of  an  English  cargo  boat.  Not  so  the  mil- 
lionaire himself.  It  is  a  fact  that  men  of  resource 


DEPARTURE  31 

and  calibre,  no  matter  what  their  nationality, 
religion,  or  manner  of  living,  can  always  meet 
upon  the  common  ground  of  their  own  strength 
of  character,  and  the  man  of  railroads  found 
himself  more  thoroughly  happy  in  that  cargo 
tramp  than  he  had  been  in  his  palatial  yacht. 
The  ship  was  real,  her  people  were  real,  the  mil- 
lionaire was  real  —  they  understood  one  another. 
Being  more  than  usually  dyspeptic  the  railroad 
magnate,  therefore,  came  in  direct  contact  with 
the  cook,  who,  being  the  artist  he  was,  set  him- 
self to  prepare  nourishment  which  was  not  only 
digestible  in  quality,  but  was  appetising  as  well. 
When  the  ship  arrived  at  a  South  American  port 
whither  she  had  been  bound,  the  man  of  railroads 
promptly  offered  Cert'nly  Wilfred  a  prince's 
ransom  in  the  shape  of  a  yearly  salary  to  con- 
tinue preparing  his  food,  which  offer,  of  course, 
Wilfred  as  promptly  accepted. 

"Cert'nly,"  replied  Cert'nly  Wilfred  with  his 
usual  familiar  friendliness,  and  from  thence  on- 
wards for  three  and  a  hah5  years  the  little  man 
saw  a  strange  and  wonderful  life.  Wherever  the 
Prince  of  Railroads  went,  there  also  went  the 
Prince  of  Cooks.  But  three  and  a  half  years  of 
this  employment  was  as  much 'as  Cert'nly  Wil- 
fred could  stand.  He  must  get  to  sea  again,  not 
in  yachts  and  liners,  but  in  the  common  mer- 
chant ships  that  wait  not  for  fine  weather,  that 


32  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

are  to  be  found  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  that 
seek  adventures  upon  deep  waters,  that  acquire 
adventures  in  strange  rivers,  that  have  adven- 
tures thrust  upon  them.  Those  two,  Cert'nly 
Wilfred  and  the  railroad  millionaire,  bade  each 
other  almost  a  tearful  farewell  in  private,  and 
armed  with  credentials  that  would  have  gained 
him  the  position  of  chef  in  any  hotel  had  he 
wanted  it,  and  with  a  considerable  sum  in  the 
bank,  Cert'nly  Wilfred  wandered  westward, 
seeing  life.  He  chanced  across  a  Texan  with 
blue  eyes,  a  large  mustache,  with  a  cattle  ranch 
the  size  of  a  European  kingdom  and  a  forty-four 
calibre  revolver  hanging  low  down  upon  his  right 
hip.  Here  again  that  subtle  understanding  that 
enables  men  of  widely  different  birth  and  at- 
tainments to  come  together  formed  the  basis  of  a 
friendship  that  was  responsible  for  an  invitation 
to  see  Western  life  on  a  cattle  ranch  in  Texas, 
and  Wilfred  enjoyed  himself  immensely.  It  mat- 
tered not  that  he  could  not  ride,  it  mattered  not 
that  he  misplaced  his  "h's,"  it  mattered  not  that 
he  was  small  and  undersized.  For  he  had  that 
which  it  is  essential  that  all  real  men  should 
have.  As  it  happened  that  during  his  stay  the 
Chinese  cook  inadvertently  exposed  his  person 
in  the  track  of  a  chance  bullet,  Cert'nly  Wilfred 
readily  filled  the  gap  so  caused,  and  though  the 
materials  which  he  had  to  work  with  were 


DEPARTURE  33 

mostly  of  the  canned  variety,  he  executed  mir- 
acles that  endeared  him  for  ever  to  those  hap- 
hazard men  of  the  West.  It  was  here  that  he  first 
became  known  as  "Cert'nly"  Wilfred,  from  his 
amiable  habit  of  reply,  and  it  is  a  remarkable 
fact  that,  though  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  stay 
over  a  year  in  the  West,  he  never  once  bestrode 
a  horse !  He  affirmed  that  he  would  be  made  sea- 
sick by  the  motion. 

But  in  the  end  the  sea  must  have  him,  and  he 
was  escorted  to  the  nearest  railroad  by  twenty- 
five  men-at-arms  who  presented  him  with  a 
brace  of  revolvers  and  a  cartridge  belt  that  were 
not  bought  for  a  hundred  dollars.  In  San  Fran- 
cisco he  chanced  across  Captain  Matthew 
Hawks  and  settled  down  for  life,  a  life  that  was 
as  varied  and  unexpected  as  all  things  must  be 
that  are  even  remotely  connected  with  that  for- 
midable Californian,  a  life,  as  Wilfred  puts  it, 
where  "things  'appen."  Wilfred  here  found  the 
world  wherein  it  suited  him  to  dwell,  and  where 
it  suited  the  world  he  should  be.  Vociferous 
and  shrill,  he  guarded  his  employer's  interests 
and  lived  a  life  that  continually  demanded  of 
him  his  best.  Despite  his  delicacy  of  health,  he 
possessed  a  high  and  singular  courage;  irrepres- 
sible and  bland,  he  was  wholly  without  fear  of  life 
and  without  dread  of  death;  with  a  keen  intelli- 
gence, a  generous  soul,  and  with  real  artistry 


34  THE  MARTIN  .CONNOR 

in  his  profession,  he  was  an  intrepid  and  re- 
markable little  man.  No  community  of  persons 
could  but  be  enriched  by  his  presence,  for  he 
enjoyed  a  sound  philosophy;  no  atmosphere  so 
bleak  but  could  be  warmed  by  his  disrespectful 
humour,  and  no  situation  so  tense  but  could  be 
partially  relieved  by  his  undaunted  remarks. 
Such  was  Cert'nly  Wilfred  our  cook,  a  great- 
hearted little  man. 

It  was  toward  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  be- 
fore the  Martin  Connor  was  finally  ready  for  sea. 
Captain  Hawks  arrived  about  midnight  in  one 
of  his  rather  brutally  cheerful  moods,  shoulder- 
ing his  way  through  those  upon  the  wharf  with 
a  truculent  disregard  for  those  he  bumped  into. 
Clad  in  blue  serge,  his  white-topped  cap  and 
white  collar  contrasting  vividly  with  his  leather- 
like  complexion,  he  looked  the  large  and  vigorous 
man  that  he  was,  and  one  destined  and  equipped 
to  force  himself  a  place  wherever  he  might  be. 

The  clatter  of  our  winches  echoed  loudly  along 
the  water-front  as  we  swung  out  from  the  wharf; 
the  perspiring  stevedores  scrambled  ashore  after 
eighteen  hours'  consecutive  work  despite  the 
unions,  while  a  lonely  policeman  stood  yawning 
and  watching  our  departure.  It  was  a  fine  and 
merrily  tempestuous  summer  morning,  the  Gulf 
wind  already  blowing  steady  and  warm,  a  river 
of  air  streaming  northwards  to  the  hot  plains 


DEPARTURE  35 

of  Texas  and  Arizona.  The  streets  of  Galveston 
appeared  and  disappeared  like  the  spokes  of  a 
revolving  wheel,  and  across  the  great  arch  of 
sky  were  hurrying  clusters  of  brilliant  clouds 
bowling  swiftly  inland,  trailing  after  them  their 
flying  shadows  that  patched  the  sunny  land- 
scape. The  fresh  breeze  rippled  the  tightly 
stretched  awning  above  the  bridge,  and  the  even 
song  of  the  happy  engines  running  sweet  and  true 
under  Mr.  McLushley's  fiercely  loving  eye  came 
through  the  open  skylights. 

In  company  with  a  fleet  of  Gulf  Fishery  Com- 
pany's vessels  we  swung  down  the  Bolivar  Chan- 
nel. Beyond,  the  Gulf  stretched  dappled  and 
glittering,  windy,  clear,  and  spacious,  a  sea  of 
infamous  memories.  As  time  passed  and  we 
gained  the  open,  the  warm  wind  increased  to 
half  a  gale,  a  roaring,  tepid  draught  rushing  in- 
land to  equalise  pressures.  Every  stay,  wire, 
and  line  upon  the  ship  thrilled  and  vibrated, 
while  the  bridge  awning  rolled  and  rattled  like  a 
drum,  and  the  brilliant  sun  deluged  the  flashing 
scene.  Right  into  the  eye  of  this  fine  breeze 
snored  the  Martin  Connor,  pitching  and  lifting 
rhythmically  to  the  foam-patched  seas,  her  heav- 
ing wake  swinging  out  behind  her  beneath  a 
fan-shaped  spread  of  smoke,  while  a  great  con- 
course of  birds  followed  for  some  distance  out, 
twinkling  and  soaring  in  the  bright  sunlight. 


36  THE  MARTIN   CONNOR 

A  ship's  course  from  port  to  port  is  a  mathe- 
matical problem  that  bristles  with  technical 
terms  such  as  "apogee"  and  "opogee,"  "loxo- 
dromic  curves"  and  "diurnal  parallaxes,"  "pre- 
cession of  equinoxes"  and  "equiangular  spirals," 
all  of  which  irresistibly  suggest  to  my  mind 
strange  and  highly  eccentric  animals !  However, 
there  are  persons,  mentally  incomprehensible  to 
me,  who  find  the  keenest  joy  in  these  regions, 
and  my  commander  was  one  of  those  persons. 
Nearly  all  his  spare  tune  was  absorbed  in  the 
compilation  of  technical  works  of  reference  for 
the  mariner. 

Hour  Angles  of  Sun,  Moon,  and  Stars;  An  In- 
troductory Hand-book  to  Nautical  Astronomy;  The 
Adjustment  of  Compasses;  A  Manual  for  the  De- 
viation of  Compasses  in  Iron  Ships,  and  The  Re- 
duction of  Lunar  Observations,  represented  the 
outlet  which  Captain  Hawks  found  necessary 
for  his  restless  intellect.  It  is,  therefore,  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  he  took  his  departure 
from  the  beacons  at  the  entrance  to  the  Bolivar 
Channel,  and  laid  his  course  and  corrected  it 
("the  course  made  good,"  as  sailors  call  it  after 
the  adjustment  of  deviation  and  the  variation  of 
the  compass  and  the  computation  of  ocean  cur- 
rents and  wind  pressure  upon  the  ship)  with  an 
accuracy  that  made  it  as  mathematically  correct 
as  the  longitude  of  Greenwich. 


DEPARTURE  37 

Had  he  kept  this  lust  of  figures  to  himself,  I 
should  have  regarded  his  strange  passion  with 
detached  and  respectful  interest,  but,  whenever 
the  proofs  of  his  books  came  in,  and  whenever 
he  laid  a  course,  my  commander  would  ask  me 
to  "run"  over  his  calculations  and  check  them 
independently.  As  my  "run"  was  at  best  a 
halting  crawl,  I  would  discover  at  intervals 
(while  thus  floundering  in  his  wake)  some  detail 
concerning  the  ship  which  would  call  me  away 
with  a  spinning  brain  to  draw  breath.  In  self- 
defence  I  must  state  that  for  all  practical  pur- 
poses my  navigation  is  as  sound  as  another's, 
and  that  I  possess  a  "Master's  Extra";  but  I  am 
content  to  leave  my  conclusions  without  carry- 
ing them  out  to  ten  points  in  decimals,  and  I  can 
be  assured  of  my  own  accuracy  without  proving 
my  totals  by  half  a  dozen  geometrical  designs 
upon  the  chart  like  an  overgrown  cobweb. 

In  Mr.  McLushley,  our  chief  engineer,  Cap- 
tain Hawks  found  a  kindred  spirit,  and  though 
the  regions  of  their  investigations  lay  in  separate 
departments  of  sea  life,  they  yet  met  upon  the 
common  ground  of  accuracy  —  accuracy  carried 
to  an  inhuman  point.  Mr.  McLushley  was  ap- 
proaching the  age  of  sixty  years;  and  until  he  en- 
tered the  employ  of  Captain  Hawks,  he  had  never 
been  long  in  one  ship.  He  had  passed  a  robust 
and  stormy  career  making  enemies  and  collecting 


38  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

all  manner  of  certificates  for  super-competency. 
He  was»  on  most  occasions,  outrageously  rude, 
and  shipowners  who  expected  big  dividends  from 
unseaworthy  ships,  engined  by  machinery  that 
should  have  long  since  been  scrapped,  were  not 
likely  to  retain  his  services  when  Mr.  McLushley 
did  not  hesitate  to  state,  in  rasping  Scotch  and 
with  the  greatest  emphasis,  the  precise  condi- 
tion of  their  property,  their  base  attitude  of 
mind,  their  dishonourable  methods  of  business, 
and  what  he  sincerely  hoped  would  be  their 
personal  future  in  this  world  and  in  the  world 
to  come.  There  are  some  things  which  it  is  not 
prudent  to  say,  and  Mr.  McLushley  said  them, 
for  he  was  one  of  the  few  men  I  have  ever  known 
who  literally  feared  no  one  on  earth  excepting 
always  a  minister  of  the  Free  Kirk  of  Scotland. 
His  usual  manner  was  provocative  of  a  breach  of 
the  peace,  hence  he  was,  in  time,  blacklisted  by 
shipowners  the  wide  world  over,  and  he  was 
found  practically  starving  by  Captain  Hawks, 
one  day,  in  San  Francisco.  Now,  my  commander 
is  known  and  respected  in  that  metropolis  of 
the  West;  moreover,  his  size  and  general  appear- 
ance gain  him  respect  in  most  places.  He  was 
therefore  not  the  least  offended,  but  instead, 
very  interested,  when  a  tall,  threadbare  Scotch- 
man, with  whom  he  dropped  into  a  casual  con- 
versation, contradicted  him  flatly  six  times  in 


DEPARTURE  39 

five  minutes.  Captain  Hawks  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  being  contradicted  in  just  that  manner 
and  said  so,  whereupon  the  Scotchman  had  re- 
marked that  it  was  time  he  should  be,  whereat 
my  commander  had  grinned  friendlily  and  had 
said  to  himself,  "Verily,  this  is  a  man." 

Their  remarks  had  concerned  some  machinery 
awaiting  transhipment  from  the  wharf;  and  even 
though  the  machinery  in  question  was  of  a  marine 
order,  and  though  Captain  Hawks  certainly 
knew  more  about  a  ship's  engines  than  most 
master  mariners,  he  could  not  be  expected  to 
have  an  almost  infinite  knowledge  and  instinct 
of  what  was,  after  all,  not  the  primal  department 
of  his  profession.  Furthermore,  the  mechanism 
under  discussion  was  of  a  new  and  complicated 
nature,  and  as  the  casual  stranger  had  demon- 
strated his  points  in  long,  carefully  punctuated, 
broadly  Scotch,  and  highly  technical  sentences, 
Captain  Hawks  had  not  taken  long  to  realise 
that  he  had  been  wrong,  that  the  stranger  was 
right,  and  that  the  stranger  knew  a  very  great 
deal  about  his  subject.  Like  most  clever  and  en- 
lightened men,  Captain  Hawks  had  at  once  ad- 
mitted his  error,  and  had  then  promptly  asked 
the  ill-clad  Scotchman  aboard  to  breakfast,  com- 
menting mentally,  "I  want  this  man  and  I  am 
going  to  have  him."  The  Scotchman  had  re- 
fused the  invitation  and  had  turned  away  with 


40  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

the  air  of  one  who  has  been  asked  for  a  loan. 
That  was  my  commander's  first  meeting  with 
Andrew  Kinnaird  McLushley,  of  Dunoon,  Ar- 
gyll, in  the  Kingdom  of  Scotland;  and  in  the  end, 
of  course,  Captain  Hawks  got  his  way. 

There  now  existed  an  odd  friendship  between 
these  two  highly  efficient,  taciturn,  and  formid- 
able men,  a  friendship  that  was  not  marked  by 
any  affectionate  terms  of  speech  or  even  un- 
common civility.  They  seldom  sought  each 
other's  society  except  upon  the  occasions  when 
they  would  revel  together  solemnly  in  the  regions 
of  higher  mathematics.  For  the  most  part  they 
would  actually  seem  to  avoid  each  other,  my 
commander  never  entering  the  engine-room  of 
his  own  ship,  and  Mr.  McLushley  only  mount- 
ing to  the  bridge  when  technical  and  official  eti- 
quette demanded,  when  his  stay  would  be  of  the 
briefest,  and  when  his  manner  would  be  particu- 
larly repellent.  They  never  addressed  each  other 
by  then*  Christian  names,  a  certain  unapproach- 
able ceremoniousness  always  marking  then*  inter- 
course together.  Yet  had  they  been  separated 
by  half  the  world,  and  had  one  of  them  needed 
assistance,  the  other  would  have  come,  at  all 
cost,  full  speed  to  the  rescue,  when  their  meet- 
ing would  have  appeared  anything  but  affec- 
tionate! 

Nor  was  much  geniality  introduced  into  our 


DEPARTURE  41 

social  atmosphere  by  Timothy  Hanks,  our  sec- 
ond mate.  Coming  of  a  maritime  ancestry  from 
an  austere  New  England  stock,  his  dark  hah-  and 
ripe-mulberry-coloured  eyes  an  inheritance  from 
his  mother,  a  woman  from  the  mountains  of 
Auvergne,  he  was  used  to  the  very  hardest  con- 
ditions. Though  he  was  one  of  those  happiest  of 
created  things,  —  a  man  living  for  his  work  and 
not  just  working  for  his  living,  —  his  counte- 
nance bore  an  expression  of  foreboding  doom,  a 
besetting  seriousness  that  is  peculiar  to  youth 
in  certain  temperaments.  Ever  since  he  had  first 
blinked  his  mulberry-coloured  eyes  at  a  New 
England  winter  day,  life  had  been  a  stern  real- 
ity. He  had  fought  his  way  through  the  ills  of 
infancy  with  a  roaring  voice;  he  had  struggled 
through  a  few  years  of  schooling  and  heroic  dis- 
grace for  innumerable  combats;  and  at  the  age 
of  fourteen  he  had  run  away  to  sea  in  a  New 
Bedford  whaler  where  boys  are  cheaper  than 
food.  But  in  spite  of  disadvantages,  or  perhaps 
I  might  say  with  the  aid  of  disadvantages,  he 
had  done  well  with  himself,  and  now,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-two  years,  he  was  a  second  mate  in 
steam  and  a  first-rate  sailor,  albeit  a  solemn 
young  man. 

As  I  am  approaching  middle  age,  and  am  one 
not  temperamentally  hilarious,  the  sombre  at- 
mosphere was  in  need  of  relief,  a  relief  generously 


42  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

supplied  with  inexhaustible  vigour  by  Cert'nly 
Wilfred  and  Twocents.  But  no  ship  could  re- 
main a  place  of  gloom  with  Captain  Alexander 
Esterkay  on  board.  These  three  formed  an  ad- 
equate counterpoise  to  Captain  Hawks,  Mr. 
McLushley,  Timothy  Hanks,  and  —  well,  yes, 
perhaps  myself! 

From  the  first  moment  aboard,  Twocents  had 
been  consumed  with  curiosity  concerning  every 
detail  of  the  ship,  as  all  right-minded  boys  would 
and  should  be,  and  it  had  not  been  long  before 
he  had  discovered  Cert'nly  Wilfred  tempestu- 
ously at  work  in  the  galley.  That  these  two 
should  be  friends  was  a  foregone  conclusion, 
though  for  a  time  the  little  man's  cockney  dia- 
lect was  somewhat  incomprehensible  to  Two- 
cents. 

"'Ere,  Tiddlediwinks!"  hailed  Wilfred,  and 
fell  at  once  to  cross-examining  with  shrill  ques- 
tions. And  Twocents,  by  no  means  emanci- 
pated from  his  street  life,  had  not  unnaturally 
answered  back  with  some  impertinence,  only  to 
receive  a  sharp  reprimand  from  the  cook  that 
was  physical  in  character,  amiable  in  impulse, 
and  most  successful  in  effect! 

Twocents  was  startled. 

In  the  wretched  and  sordid  circumstances  that 
had  encompassed  him  in  the  circus,  he  had  often 
both  received  and  avoided  a  blow  delivered  with 


DEPARTURE  43 

ill-tempered  ferocity,  at  which  times,  as  could 
only  be  expected,  he  had  made  liberal  use  of  such 
speech  as  he  heard  habitually  used  around  him. 
But  never  before  had  he  received  a  clean,  flat 
smack,  delivered  open-handed,  without  malice, 
and  in  such  a  location  that  only  a  considerable 
stinging  and  no  possible  injury  was  the  result. 
The  chastisement  had  been  accompanied  by  a 
cackle  of  laughter  from  the  cook  which  had 
robbed  the  proceeding  of  all  suggestion  of  over- 
emphasis, and  for  the  first  time  in  his  short  life 
Twocents  realised  the  possibility  of  justifiable 
punishment,  sane,  tempered,  and  even  affection- 
ate. 

It  made  a  world  of  difference  in  Twocents! 

I  think  we  were  all,  in  our  different  ways,  un- 
consciously grateful  to  that  boy.  In  spite  of  the 
cheerful  influence  of  Cert'nly  Wilfred  and  Cap- 
tain Esterkay,  there  would  have  been  lacking, 
but  for  Twocents,  that  elusive  element  that  only 
youth  can  afford.  A  collection  of  adults,  of 
work-a-day  adults,  is  all  the  better  for  that  ele- 
ment, and  whether  Twocents  was  getting  ami- 
ably spanked  in  the  galley  by  Wilfred,  or  explor- 
ing the  ship  with  a  restless,  pup-like  energy  and 
a  hair-raising  nimbleness  due  to  his  acrobatic 
training,  he  was  generally  in  the  back  of  our 
minds.  From  the  truck  of  our  stumpy  masts  to 
the  stoke-hold  Twocents  possessed  the  ship  like, 


44  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

as  Wilfred  said,  "a  cat  on  'ot  bricks."  He  al- 
together defeated  Mr.  McLushley's  forbidding 
grimness,  and  with  the  unerring  instinct  of  a 
child  beheld  the  man  beneath,  for  though  Mr. 
McLushley  was  feared  by  men,  children  and 
dogs  gambolled  about  him. 

But  some  forty-eight  hours  out  from  Galves- 
ton  we  began  to  forget  Twocents,  as  a  more 
serious  matter  arose  out  of  the  south  and  east 
to  engage  our  attention. 

There  was,  in  the  first  place,  what  I  might 
describe  as  a  hesitancy  in  the  usual  trade  wind, 
which  finally  ceased  altogether  some  hours  before 
it  should  have  done,  followed  by  an  odd  rise  in 
temperature.  As  any  departure  from  the  usual 
in  the  weather,  in  the  Gulf,  especially  at  cer- 
tain seasons  of  the  year,  is  regarded  by  sailors 
with  suspicion,  this  change  was  quickly  noted 
by  Captain  Hawks,  who,  with  his  usual  alertness, 
at  once  commenced  a  table  of  half-hourly  ob- 
servations. To  add  to  our  suspicions  there  be- 
gan to  come  out  of  the  south  and  east  a  percep- 
tible cross-sea  with  no  wind  from  that  quarter 
to  warrant  its  presence.  This  was  toward  mid- 
night about  fifty  hours  out  from  Galveston.  I 
had  risen  to  take  my  watch  and  had  gone  first, 
according  to  my  custom,  to  the  galley  for  some 
supper  (or  breakfast,  whichever  it  might  be 
called)  which  I  knew  would  be  ready  and  wait- 


DEPARTURE  45 

ing.  The  night  was  placid  and  still,  the  black  sky 
strewn  with  a  multitude  of  stars,  and  in  the  wind- 
less space  the  smoke  from  the  funnel  hung  about 
the  ship,  giving  the  night  a  reek  of  unswept 
chimneys.  A  certain  stillness  pervaded  the  at- 
mosphere, what  I  might  term  an  unhealthy 
stillness,  and  so  warm  was  the  night  that  I  de- 
cided to  stand  my  watch  in  my  sleeping-suit 
without  troubling  to  dress,  only  taking  with  me 
an  oilskin  coat  for  possible  showers.  Wilfred 
had  not  turned  in;  he  never  seemed  to  go  to  bed, 
and  he  was  engaged  upon  the  construction  of  a 
wooden  cuckoo  clock,  for  clock-making  was  one 
of  his  pastimes. 

"  'Ere,  Mister  Mate,"  said  he,  with  the  affable 
familiarity  that  marked  our  intercourse  when 
alone  together,  for  we  were  very  old  friends, 
" where 's  this  sea  comin'  from?" 

"From  the  south  and  east,"  I  replied  stolidly, 

and  blinking  in  the  bright  light  cast  from  the 

electrics  that  made  the  iron  galley  as  bright  as 

day,  and  which  was  reflected  from  row  upon  row 

of  copper  pans  graduated  nicely  according  to  size. 

"An*  what  may  be  down  theer?" 

"Some  kind  of  a  breeze,  I  should  judge." 

"Feel  'er  pitch  ter  thet,  now?"  said  the  little 

man,  pausing  in  his  work,  his  head  meditatively 

upon  one  side,  as  though  he  were  listening  to  the 

faint  echo  of  some  far-off  sound.  The  ship  took 


46  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

three  successive  dives,  not  deep  ones,  but  quick 
ones  that  were  peculiar  in  their  motion,  and  not 
unlike  a  smooth-running  sledge  that  rocked 
suddenly  and  sharply  over  three  ice-embedded 
logs.  The  movement  suggested  a  very  peculiar 
wave  formation. 

"I  knows  thet  lift,  I  do,"  said  Wilfred,  contin- 
uing with  his  clock-making;  "I've  felt  it  before, 
oncet  in  the  Formosa  Channel";  and  he  turned 
and  grinned  at  me  exposing  a  lonely  tooth. 

I  was  hard  at  work  upon  my  bacon  and  ta- 
males  and  the  kind  of  tea  one  drinks  when  one 
has  a  good  digestion. 

"I  'aven't  bin  goin*  to  and  fro  on  this  'ere 
world  an'  walkin'  up  and  darn  wiv  my  heyes 
wide  open  wivout  learning  a  thing  or  two,  I 
'aven't,"  resumed  Wilfred,  holding  up  to  the  light 
a  small  piece  of  wood  he  was  shaping.  "Nor 
'ave  I  bin  at  sea  for  a  good  many  lively  years 
wivout  becomin'  acquainted  wiv  the  motion  of 
ships,  Mister  George  'En-ery  Grummet." 

"We'll  know  all  about  it  by  and  by,"  said  I, 
comfortably  aware  of  a  sound  ship,  a  sound  crew, 
and  a  highly  skilled  commander. 

"I  think  we  will,  even  though  there  ain't  no 
'Ong  Kong  Water  P'lice  Station  in  the  immeejit 
neighbourhood  to  send  up  fireworks  *  by  way  of 

1  Three  bombs  and  a  black  cross  at  the  masthead  is  a  signal 
given  by  the  Hong  Kong  Water  Police  Station  indicating  the 
immediate  approach  of  a  typhoon. 


"ERE,  MISTER  MATE,  WHERE'S  THIS  SEA  COMIN'  FROM?" 


DEPARTURE  47 

a  gentle  'int  to  the  mariner  to  shift  'isself  over 
th'  nearest  'orizon.  The  one  I  alluded  to  jest 
now,  in  the  Formosa  Channel,  was  full-powered 
enough  fer  me,  I  can  tell  yer.  The  velocity  of 
the  wind  tetched  a  hundred  and  twenty  odd,  so 
I  learned,  arfter  which  it  blew  the  wind-gedge 
away  and  went  on  increasing.  Yer  need  a  string 
to  yer  'at  in  a  breeze  like  thet." 

The  ship  entered  upon  a  series  of  short,  high, 
sawing  pitches,  and  for  a  time  we  said  nothing, 
Wilfred  at  his  bench  and  I  at  my  meal  both 
keenly  aware  of  the  movement. 

"It's  odd,  y'  know,  jes'  odd,"  remarked  the 
little  man  thoughtfully  without  looking  up; 
"it's  an  odd  sea";  and  I  grunted  hi  reply. 

The  galley,  for  cleanliness,  would  have  done 
credit  to  a  man-o'-war,  though  there  was  a 
homeliness  foreign  to  warships  that  made  the 
apartment  characteristic  of  its  occupant.  Every- 
thing had  a  hook  or  a  batten  or  a  ledge  or  a 
wedge  to  hold  it  firm  and  prevent  it  from  rattling 
or  slipping  in  a  seaway,  and  what  free  spaces 
there  were  were  filled  by  photographic  enlarge- 
ments —  for  Wilfred  was  an  excellent  photog- 
rapher —  in  frames  bolted  and  screwed  to  the 
bulkhead.  To  one  side  a  door  opened  to  the  little 
man's  living  quarters  with  "OFFICE"  neatly 
painted  upon  it,  the  light  through  the  doorway 
revealing  a  shelf  full  of  account  books  above  a 


48  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

locked  desk.  Here  was  to  be  found  an  exact 
record,  in  a  sloping  and  laborious  handwriting,  of 
every  ounce  of  food  purchased  for  and  consumed 
within  the  ship.  At  one  side  of  the  desk  was 
Wilfred's  bunk,  with  a  set  of  drawers  beneath 
it.  The  photographs  in  this  apartment  were  of 
a  more  personal  nature,  being  mostly  family 
portraits,  and  several  views  of  Hack  Street, 
Tidal  Basin,  North  Woolwich,  London,  E.  Thus, 
above  his  bunk  was  a  painfully  enlarged  por- 
trait of  Wilfred's  mother,  smiling  down,  large 
and  amiable  from  the  stern  of  a  waggonette  with 
a  background  of  Epping  Forest.  And  about  both 
the  galley  and  his  living  quarters  there  was  a 
great  ticking  of  clocks  that  chimed,  struck,  and 
cuckooed  uproariously  together  at  every  hour 
and  half -hour. 

I  finished  my  meal  and  nodded  to  Wilfred. 

" Good-bye,  darling,"  said  he;  "what  a  won- 
derful thing  it  must  be  ter  stand  on  the  bridge  at 
midnight  an*  control  the  workin's  o*  — "  But 
by  that  time  I  passed  out  of  hearing. 

I  found  Timothy  Hanks  marching  up  and 
down,  vigilant,  solitary,  perspiring,  and  gloomy. 
He  paused  at  the  ladder-head  and  looked  about 
him  as  though  now  that  his  watch  was  over  he 
discovered  himself  to  be  a  human  being. 

"It's  very  warm,  sir,"  he  remarked  in  even 
tones. 


DEPARTURE  49 

"It  is,  Mr.  Hanks,"  I  agreed.  "You  might 
even  call  it  hot,"  said  I,  lighting  my  pipe,  and 
for  a  moment  or  two  we  both  watched  the  flame 
of  the  match  that  fluttered  only  slightly  with 
the  movement  of  the  ship.  "And  there's  no 
wind,"  I  added,  flicking  the  match  over  the 
side. 

"No,  no  wind,"  he  repeated  thoughtfully. 
Then  after  a  pause  he  added  more  briskly  as  he 
turned  to  go:  "Good-night,  Mr.  Grummet;  I 
think  I'll  sleep  in  my  clothes." 

Throughout  my  watch  the  conditions  steadily 
worsened.  Before  daybreak  I  noted  that  the 
stars  no  longer  shone  with  their  usual  clear 
metallic  brilliance,  but  with  a  distorted  sheen, 
like  lights  beheld  through  a  smeared  window 
pane,  with  long  points  emanating  from  their 
centres.  The  heat  was  extraordinary  and  most 
oppressive;  the  sea  grew  higher  and  changed  its 
course  slightly  toward  the  east.  The  sunrise 
came  late,  masked  by  a  heavy  bank  of  cloud 
that  lay  like  solid  land  upon  the  southern  hori- 
zon. Even  when  the  sun  rose  clear  of  this,  its 
direct  rays  were  veiled,  as  by  a  film  that  painted 
the  dome  of  sky  a  pale  blue.  And  the  quality  of 
the  heat  was  that  of  an  enclosed' space,  as  though 
the  world  were  roofed  by  a  semi-transparent 
substance  which,  while  permitting  the  sun  to 
pierce  it,  prevented  all  wind  from  penetrating. 


50  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

The  calm  was  more  than  a  calm;  there  seemed  to 
be  actual  absence  of  air,  and  the  entire  atmos- 
phere impressed  one  as  hanging  poised,  await- 
ing some  cataclysmic  happening. 


CHAPTER 

A  TEST  FOR  SHIP  AND   SEAMANSHIP 

TECHNICALLY,  a  typhoon,  hurricane,  or  cyclone 
is  known  as  a  "revolving,"  or  "circular,"  storm, 
and  the  handbooks  in  their  cold,  unimaginative 
fashion  dissertate  in  measured  tones  upon  their 
construction  and  cause  much  as  medical  works 
will  discuss  some  ravaging  sickness. 

These  storms  have,  in  addition  to  a  motion 
round  a  centre  of  low  barometer,  blowing  more 
or  less  a  circular  course,  a  progressive  move- 
ment along  a  straight  or  curving  track.  They 
revolve  against  the  watch  hands  in  the  northern 
hemisphere,  but  with  the  watch  hands  in  the 
southern;  and  the  indications  of  their  approach 
are  the  threatening  appearance  of  the  weather,  a 
heavy  swell  not  due  to  the  wind  then  blowing, 
and  above  all  to  a  falling  barometer,  "or  even  if 
the  regularity  of  its  diurnal  variation  be  inter- 
rupted, danger  may  be  apprehended." 

There  you  have  a  technical  description  of  the 
conditions  in  which  a  West  Indian  hurricane 
may  be  expected,  and  it  is  strikingly  inept.  One 
is  led  to  picture  the  mariner,  manual  in  hand, 
regarding  his  coming  extinction  with  a  detached 


52  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

spirit  and  an  observant  eye,  coldly  in  search  of 
self -improving  knowledge. 

It  was  not  in  this  admirable  spirit  that  Cap- 
tain Hawks  and  myself  regarded  our  conditions, 
the  conditions  surrounding  the  Martin  Connor 
at  that  moment  entering  the  Straits  of  Yucatan. 
We  had  closely  examined  a  small  scale  chart  of 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  the  table  of  figures  com- 
piled with  care  and  accuracy  by  my  commander 
throughout  the  preceding  hours.  The  ship  was 
stripped  of  her  awnings,  and  everything  move- 
able  was  lashed  and  counterlashed,  fixed,  stayed, 
and  bound  in  every  way  that  ingenuity  and  ex- 
perience could  suggest.  The  heat  was  tremen- 
dous, and  out  of  the  south  and  east  came  those 
great  walls  of  water,  unbroken,  and  growing 
steadily  larger  as  time  went  on,  moving  silently 
immense,  and  sweeping  the  steamer  up  and 
down  with  a  swinging  motion  so  great  and  so 
steep  that  it  was  next  thing  to  the  impossible 
for  a  man  to  move  without  hanging  on  to  some- 
thing. Yet  there  was  no  breath  of  wind.  The 
sea  had  the  appearance  of  cod-liver  oil;  it 
seemed  almost  sticky;  and  its  weight  and  im- 
petus, and  its  smooth,  vast,  oily-silk  undulations 
were  unlike  anything  I  have  seen.  It  was  no 
longer  like  water;  one  could  imagine  it  the  liquid 
substance  of  some  other  world,  strangely  con- 
vulsed by  some  wholly  unearthly  commotion. 


A  TEST  FOR  SEAMANSHIP        53 

The  surface  was  unbroken  and  showed  neither 
ripple  nor  foam,  and  the  waves  came  moving 
swiftly  sedate  in  a  silence  that  was  most  discon- 
certing; it  was,  as  Captain  Hawks  said,  a  wicked 
sea. 

Our  study  of  the  chart  was  interrupted  by  a 
whistle  from  Timothy  Hanks  down  the  bridge- 
tube.  I  answered  it. 

"A  British  man-o'-war  a  few  points  off  the 
port  bow,  sir,"  said  he,  "and  she  is  flying  some 
signals.  But  as  there's  no  wind  I  can't  make 
them  out." 

I  repeated  this  to  the  captain. 

"Step  out  with  the  glasses,"  said  he,  "and  as 
soon  as  you  can  read  me  out  what  she's  saying  "; 
and  he  reached  for  the  bookshelf  above  the  desk, 
his  legs  spread  wide  to  steady  himself. 

I  hooked  my  elbow  round  a  funnel  stay  and 
raised  my  glasses.  Out  of  the  curious  haze  that 
hemmed  our  horizon  to  the  limits  of  a  few  miles, 
I  beheld  a  great  grey  war- vessel  flying  the  White 
Ensign.  She  was  heaving  prodigiously,  the  cen- 
tre of  a  vast  acreage  of  white  foam;  for  she  was 
cutting  athwart  the  seas  which  climbed  all  over 
her,  giving  her  the  appearance  of  a  half-tide 
rock.  The  flags  she  had  mounted  hung  limp  and 
undecipherable,  only  shaking  out  a  little  as  the 
ship  rolled.  I  called  Captain  Hawks  to  come 
and  look  at  her,  for  she  was  a  fine  sight. 


54  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"Big  lump  of  a  ship,  that,"  said  he;  "I  won- 
der what  she  can  want  with  me." 

Just  then,  the  Britisher,  to  attract  our  atten- 
tion, shrieked  mournfully  on  his  siren.  As  we 
approached  closer  to  each  other  I  made  out  the 
patches  of  bunting. 

"Two  red  flags,  sir,"  said  I,  —  "two  red  flags 
with  blue  or  black  —  no,  black  centres  and  a  red 
pennant.  She  has  two  black  cones  up,  the  cones 
are  base  to  base." 

While  the  captain  was  turning  the  pages  of  the 
signal  book  I  shifted  the  glasses  to  the  warship's 
upper  bridge.  She,  like  us,  was  stripped  of  her 
awnings,  and  all  over  her  main-decks  the  sea  was 
streaming  in  white  cascades  amid  the  compli- 
cated litter  of  polished  accoutrements.  Her 
strange  deck-fittings  would  appear  and  disappear 
like  rocks  upon  a  beach  in  a  heavy  surf,  and  even 
her  big  guns  would  sometimes  dip  out  of  sight, 
for  they  had  been  lowered  as  much  as  possible 
to  diminish  the  roll. 

"Two  red  flags  with  black  centres,"  said  Cap- 
tain Hawks,  "  displayed  one  above  the  other,  in- 
dicates the  immediate  approach  of  a  hurricane. 
The  red  pennant  displayed  with  the  flags  gives 
the  direction;  red  means  easterly  to  south.  That 
is  American.  The  cones  are  British,"  —  and  I 
heard  him  slap  another  book  down  and  run  over 
the  pages.  "Two  black  cones  mounted  base  to 


A  TEST  FOR  SEAMANSHIP        55 

base  means  the  immediate  approach  of  a  ty- 
phoon. He'll  have  got  that  by  wireless  from 
Havana,  Grummet,  and  he's  making  dead  sure 
that  I  '11  understand  and  so  puts  it  up  in  Ameri- 
can and  British.  Onto  the  bridge  with  you  and 
Morse  him, '  I  understand,'  on  the  whistle.  Then 
run  up  the  Stars  and  Stripes  and  dip  them,  for 
I  am  much  obliged  for  his  politeness." 

The  moment  I  whistled  (a  long  and  a  short,  a 
long  and  a  short,  a  long  and  a  short,  a  long  and 
a  short)  the  flags  came  down  smartly,  man-o'- 
war  fashion,  but  the  cones  remained  up.  When 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  dipped,  he  Morsed,  "Give 
the  girls  my  love,"  and  so  we  parted. 

"Well,"  remarked  my  commander,  "he's  con- 
firmed my  suspicions.  That  little  show  of  bunt- 
ing of  his,  translated  literally,  means:  'If  you 
ain't  a  criminal  lunatic  you  '11  get  hence  and  out 
of  this,'  which  is  just  precisely  what  I  '11  do.  He 's 
got  the  reliable  information  that  this  thing  is 
coming  out  of  the  south  and  east,  and  it'll  be  a 
full-dress  cyclone  when  it  arrives.  It  is  travel- 
ling at  any  rate  you  like  in  a  northeasterly  direc- 
tion; and  it  will,  at  a  point  we  can't  determine, 
incline  east'ard  again,  according  to  its  habits  and 
customs.  Our  new  course  is  therefore  westerly, 
south  of  Yucatan,  for  ten  or  fifteen  hours'  steam- 
ing. That  '11  put  this  sea  abeam  and  we  '11  roll  like 
our  British  friend.  Better  let  McLushley  know." 


56  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

I  followed  Captain  Hawks  onto  the  bridge 
and  I  blew  down  the  engine-room  tube,  then 
placed  my  ear  to  the  mouthpiece.  There  came 
the  heavy,  irregular  song  of  the  engines,  strangely 
concentrated  in  the  narrow  confines  of  the  tube. 
Then  the  whistle  at  the  other  end  was  removed, 
the  sound  grew  louder,  and  then  was  thrust 
aside,  as  it  were,  by  the  voice  of  Andrew  Kin- 
naird  McLushley. 

"Well?"  asked  the  Scotchman  irritably. 

"The  course  is  to  be  changed,"  said  I;  "this 
sea  will  then  be  abeam.  She  '11  roll,  Mr.  McLush- 
ley, she'll  mighty  near  roll  the  funnel  out  of  her. 
The  captain  wanted  you  to  know." 

"Did  the  captain  think  I'd  be  seasick?"  was 
the  answer,  and  the  whistle  was  jammed  back 
with  such  violence  that  it  was  like  a  slap  in  the 
ear. 

All  the  same,  I  heard  his  warning  cry,  hoarse 
as  a  crow,  to  his  second,  who  was  doubtless  ly- 
ing prone  or  hanging  acrobatically,  oil  can  in 
hand,  amid  a  maze  of  flying  machinery. 

Captain  Hawks  had  stepped  to  the  binnacle 
and  was  only  waiting  until  I  had  finished  speak- 
ing to  the  chief. 

"All  right,  sir,"  I  said,  and  the  captain's  eyes 
turned  to  the  swaying  compass  card,  while  the 
man  at  the  small  steering  wheel,  with  his  bare 
feet  planted  far  apart  upon  the  grating,  had  the 


A  TEST  FOR  SEAMANSHIP         57 

expression  of  one  who  is  about  to  be  tried  for  his 
life.  For  it  is  nervous  work  to  be  within  a  few 
feet  of  so  august  a  personage  as  your  captain, 
who  narrowly  examines  your  work,  that,  in  it- 
self, depends  upon  a  circular  plate  of  mica  with 
a  ruby  in  the  middle  and  a  tendency  to  swing 
right  round  with  the  violent  motion  of  the  ship. 
Your  "average"  may  not  agree  with  the  cap- 
tain's and  there  is  no  talking  back  or  explaining 
at  sea.  The  Martin  Connor's  compass  card  was 
graduated  in  degrees  at  the  edge  to  obviate  any 
reference  to  points  and  to  simplify  the  applica- 
tion of  deviation.  In  giving  the  new  course, 
Captain  Hawks  gave  it  in  points,  and  the  man, 
repeating  the  order  as  the  rule  demands,  pushed 
the  wheel  over.  The  ship  took  a  dive  like  a  man 
casting  himself  down  upon  his  shoulder,  while  a 
half-humorous,  half-surprised  yell  came  from 
the  galley  where  Cert'nly  Wilfred  made  frantic 
efforts  to  save  a  pile  of  plates.  The  ship  rose 
streaming  with  water  from  her  fore-deck  and 
heeled  over  prodigiously,  and  another  yell  and 
another  tinkling  crash  of  crockery  came  from 
the  galley  followed  by  the  voice  of  Wilfred  raised 
in  disrespectful  enquiry  as  to  what  we  on  the 
bridge  were  trying  to  do  with  the  ship.  But  the 
following  moment  all  sounds  were  obliterated  by 
a  second  wave  that  came  over  our  bows  in  great 
solid  masses  of  water.  For  some  seconds  I  lost 


58  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

all  sight  of  the  ship  forward  except  for  the  fore- 
mast, while  the  tepid  water  swept  ankle-deep 
over  the  bridge  itself.  The  sea  drained  off  and 
the  ship  rose  again,  and  Captain  Hawks  him- 
self steadied  the  wheel  with  one  mahogany  paw 
upon  the  spokes. 

To  change  your  course  in  such  a  sea  requires 
skill  and  some  nerve.  The  man  at  the  wheel  had 
his  mouth  shut  like  a  trap  and  his  bulging  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  card.  With  controlled  frenzy  he 
instantly  obeyed  the  captain's  second  command, 
a  command  voiced  in  a  quiet  tone  as  though  he 
were  navigating  a  river,  and  once  more  the  little 
ship  went  down  by  the  head  under  countless  tons 
of  water.  But  this  time  there  appeared  to  be 
two  waves,  one  practically  on  top  of  another,  or 
rather  just  behind,  and  therefore  hidden. 

"Look  out,  sir!"  I  yelled,  and  grabbed  the 
sturdy,  pillar-like  stem  of  the  engine-room  tele- 
graph. 

That  sea  swept  the  ship,  —  it  was  a  monster, 
—  and  I  do  not  know  just  what  damage  I  ex- 
pected. But  as  the  ship  cleared  herself,  there 
came  the  reassuring  and  distant  vibration  of  the 
engines  as  before.  And  that  sea  had  done  us  a 
service,  for  we  were  now  right  round  upon  our 
new  course.  Captain  Hawks,  wet  to  the  middle, 
took  half  a  dozen  running  steps  like  a  slack-wire 
artist  and  whistled  down  the  engine-room  tube, 


A  YELL  CAME  FROM  THE  GALLEY 


A  TEST  FOR  SEAMANSHIP        59 

bringing  himself  up  with  an  arm  about  a  stan- 
chion. As  he  did  so  we  commenced  a  series  of 
rolling  wallows  that  cast  the  bridge  from  thirty 
degrees  one  way  to  thirty  degrees  the  other. 
It  was  tremendous  rolling,  and  we  were  going  to 
roll  worse. 

"How  much  is  she  doing,  Mr.  McLushley?" 
enquired  my  commander  politely,  then  clapped 
his  ear  to  the  tube. 

"I  want  all  that  you  can  give  me,"  was  his 
next  remark;  and  the  water,  for  the  moment 
being  free  from  the  decks,  and  with  the  entire 
absence  of  wind,  his  voice  had  the  odd  effect  of 
echoing,  as  though  from  a  low,  roof-like  sky. 

"Do  just  as  much  as  you  dare,"  he  continued; 
"I'm  going  to  run  for  it  if  I  can.  Yes.  Very 
good.  What?  As  you  say.  Perhaps.  Yes,  came 
a  mucker  changing  course.  Yes,  bad  sea." 

Almost  at  once  a  feather  of  steam  appeared 
at  the  escape  in  answer,  representing  Mr.  Mc- 
Lushley's  power  in  reserve,  though  had  that 
white  plume  appeared  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances there  would  have  been  words  of  a  per- 
sonal nature  in  the  engine-room. 

Timothy  Hanks  arrived,  though  it  was  his 
watch  below.  He  appeared  round-eyed  but  calm. 
He  took  up  a  position  at  the  end  of  the  bridge 
with  his  lips  tight  shut,  and  a  memory  of  days 
gone  by  returning  to  me  I  drifted  down  to  Tim- 


60  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

othy,  beginning,  as  circumstances  permitted,  a 
desultory  conversation  upon  technical  matters; 
and  his  face  relaxed  a  little,  under  the  influence 
of  human  intercourse.  I  was  a  young  second 
mate  myself  once,  and  I  had  not  forgotten  my 
own  sensations  when  I  was,  for  the  first  time, 
in  a  ship  in  great  peril. 

Wilfred,  dripping  wet  and  cheerful,  arrived 
to  report  (according  to  custom)  much  havoc  hi 
the  galley,  and  a  vast  quantity  of  crockery 
smashed  to  little  bits.  As  there  were  others 
present,  the  little  man  made  his  report  to  the 
captain  with  precise,  official  solemnity,  but  his 
antics  in  keeping  his  balance  were  delicately 
exaggerated,  and  as  he  departed  he  made  way 
for  Captain  Esterkay  with  a  deference  that  was 
just  a  fraction  extravagant.  The  rotund  and 
elderly  Southerner,  for  once  agile  and  swift  in 
his  movements,  inclined  his  head  slightly  in 
reply  to  Wilfred's  bow,  and  a  most  unofficial 
wink  passed  between  those  two  widely  different 
men.  For  Captain  Esterkay  knew  by  instinct 
with  whom  he  could  be  familiar.  Having  locked 
away  a  very  seasick  Twocents  he  came  to  give 
us  the  moral  support  of  his  presence  —  a  master 
mariner  well  used  to  these  regions  and  not  alto- 
gether unacquainted  with  hurricanes. 

The  sweat  stood  upon  our  faces  from  the  heat 
and  the  exertion  of  endeavouring  to  remain  up- 


A  TEST  FOR  SEAMANSHIP        61 

right.  Wandering  flaws  of  oven-hot  wind  came 
eerily  out  of  the  gathering  dusk  with  a  sighing 
moan  that  startled  the  nerves  already  painfully 
stretched.  The  sea  began  to  lose  its  wave  for- 
mation, and  in  the  early  afternoon  it  was  heav- 
ing up  and  down  in  pyramidal  masses  that  shook 
one's  faith  in  the  ship,  for  the  ship  was  hustled 
about  like  a  child  in  a  crowd.  The  scene  was 
most  sinister.  It  was  like  a  picture  of  the  end  of 
the  world.  It  was  alarming  by  all  tokens  and 
strangely  unnatural. 

We  were  doing  our  best  to  get  out  of  the  track 
of  the  approaching  avalanche  of  wind,  but  we 
could  not  have  been  very  far  from  it,  as  was 
evident  from  the  condition  of  the  sea.  Follow- 
ing a  curving  course,  this  storm  of  madly  gyrat- 
ing wind  set  up  a  tremendous  sea,  first  in  one 
direction  and  then  in  another,  as  it  pursued  its 
way.  These  different  seas  conflicted  with  one 
another,  which  is,  I  presume,  the  explanation 
of  the  conditions  we  were  then  in,  for  I  have 
never  seen  the  sea  behave  in  that  startling  man- 
ner before  (or  since) ,  though  Piddington  speaks  of 
a  similar  sea  having  occurred  once  to  his  knowl- 
edge in  the  Indian  Ocean.  The  heaviest  North 
Atlantic  gale,  or  the  severest  conditions  that  I 
can  recall  while  running  the  easting  down,  are 
nothing  compared  to  that  sea  just  south  and 
east  of  Yucatan  which  we  experienced.  For  in  a 


62  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

gale,  no  matter  how  strong,  there  is  sanity  and 
reason  in  the  ferocity  of  the  sea,  a  ferocity  which 
a  full-powered,  well-found  steamer  is  equipped 
to  meet.  But  that  hurricane  sea  was  essentially 
extraordinary  in  so  much  that  there  was  no 
wind  to  blow  it  down.  It  was  prodigious  and 
startling,  and  none  of  the  recognised  formulas 
held  good.  The  water  toppled  aboard  us  from 
all  sides  and  sometimes  from  all  directions  at 
once.  There  was  no  meeting  it,  no  avoiding  it; 
it  thundered  down  haphazard  as  a  building  col- 
lapses, all  ways  at  once,  as  though  intent  upon 
sinking  the  ship  by  sheer  weight. 

We  on  the  bridge  could  do  nothing;  our  fate 
was  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  McLushley  and  the 
good  men  with  him.  All  the  engineers  were  on 
watch  together  and  there  was  a  double  crew  in 
the  stoke-hold.  At  rare  intervals  Captain  Hawks 
communicated  with  Mr.  McLushley  and  the 
chief's  answers  were  short  and  to  the  point. 
He  gave  his  reports  in  an  irritable  manner,  tech- 
nical and  very  Scotch,  as  though  the  strain  of  the 
moment  had  carried  him  back  to  his  boyhood, 
and  he  were  once  again  in  a  ragged  kilt  and  with 
bare  legs  in  that  robust  land  of  cold  rain  and 
rushing,  porter-coloured  mountain  torrents. 

The  engines  were  behaving  "  sweetly  "  and 
true  was  ever  the  gist  of  his  communications. 
He  could  keep  this  up  indefinitely:  — 


A  TEST  FOR  SEAMANSHIP         63 

"Though  Glide  kens  this  is  no  ordinair  sea, 
an*  the  coal  consumption  is  awfu'!" 

"Never  mind  the  coal,  Mr.  McLushley, 
please,"  replied  Captain  Hawks,  always  cour- 
teous and  almost  blandly  calm.  "You  have  got 
it  there  to  burn,  and  I  guess  my  General  Aver- 
age policy  should  cover  the  undue  consumption 
anyway.  It's  a  shocking  sea." 

"An'  the  glass,  captain?"  came  up  the  tube. 

"Both  of  'em  as  low  as  I  have  ever  seen  and 
going  lower,  Mr.  McLushley." 

"Cree-ation!" 

"Unless  I  can  get  out  of  the  way  we  are  in  for 
something  big." 

"Wharr  d'ye  calculate  is  the  centre  o'  this 
thing?" 

"Forty  miles  or  so  sou'east,  travelling  nor'- 
west.  I  figure  on  it  being  well  abaft  the  beam 
now." 

"That  '11  put  these  seas  astairn,  by  'nd  by,  eh?  " 

"It  should,  but  they  are  coming  every  which 
way  now." 

"Ye  can  feel  them  strikin'  her  doon  here  as 
though  she  warr  landin'  her  forrefoot  on  a  rock. 
She'll  draw  something.  These  are  no  ordinair 
condeetions.  Are  ye  getting  smashed  up  much?" 

"No,  nothing  considerable.  No  more  than  a 
few  hundred  dollars  worth  of  deck-fittings.  But 
I  can't  see  much  of  my  ship." 


64  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"Very  likely!  Any  one  gone  overboard?" 

"No.  Any  one  hurt  with  you?" 

"Na,  not  yet,  but  they  are  fearin'  a  coal-slide. 
They  are  a  wee  bit  jumpy,  ye  ken,  no'  mutee- 
nous,  but  just  uneasy;  ma  second  had  to  do  some 
hitting  foreby  they  answered  back,  but  they  are 
right  enough  at  bottom.  It's  the  heat,  an'  the 
heat  in  the  stoke-hold  is  prodeegious,  it's  bad 
enough  in  the  engine-room.  One  man 's  sprained 
his  wrist,  but  he's  shovelling  awa'  all  the  same." 

"Whatman?" 

"  Yon  rough  tyke  from  the  East  Side,  Carter." 

"I '11  remember." 

I  caught  occasional  glimpses  of  our  gigantic 
boatswain.  He  resembled  some  powerful,  slow- 
moving,  heavily  agile  and  semi-amphibious 
creature  as  he  clambered  about  the  ship  labori- 
ously upon  the  alert.  He  was  several  times  com- 
pletely submerged,  but  he  was  always  there 
when  the  sea  drained  off,  and  in  the  calm  perti- 
nacity of  purpose  he  impressed  one  as  being  the 
embodiment  of  some  invincible  force  that  would 
win,  and  which  was  bound  to  win  —  in  the  end, 
no  matter  what  happened  now. 

He  was  a  fair-complexioned  man,  almost  an 
albino,  and  at  all  times  he  moved  with  a  meas- 
ured, unhurried  competency.  He  was  dressed 
in  much-washed  overalls  that  now,  soaking 


A  TEST  FOR  SEAMANSHIP        65 

wet,  clung  tightly  to  his  splendid  limbs.  He  was 
a  gigantic  man,  and  his  muscles  moved  like 
oiled  machinery,  precisely,  accurately,  inevi- 
tably; without  apparent  effort,  springing  into 
being  or  sinking  into  quiescence  beneath  a 
tanned  skin  of  polished  rosewood.  He  wore  a 
small,  neatly  trimmed  mustache  which  he  some- 
times fingered  with  a  massive  hand.  His  eyes 
were  china-blue,  and  his  expression  was  that  of  a 
nice  though  rather  stupid  child.  He  was  an  Eng- 
lishman, and  in  tune  every  one  in  the  Martin 
Connor  copied  his  method  of  speech  when  ad- 
dressing him.  This  had  come  about  humorously 
at  first,  but  soon  became  an  established  custom. 
It  was  characteristic  of  the  two  men  that  we 
should  amiably  poke  fun  at  the  boatswain's 
speech,  though  he  was  the  largest  man  in  the 
ship,  and  never  so  much  as  dream  of  doing  so 
with  Cert'nly  Wilfred  who  was  the  smallest. 
The  boatswain  was  known  as  <:  'Any  Ketch- 
old,"  for,  in  giving  orders  or  instructions  all 
that  was  necessary  was  to  point  and  say,  "  'Arry, 
ketch  'old,"  and  whatever  it  was  that  'Arry 
caught  hold  of  was  bound  to  come  away  or  break. 
He  was  as  handy  to  have  about  as  a  portable 
steam  winch  or  a  dockyard  crane,  and  though 
he  moved  slowly  he  worked  with  a  sustained  and 
untiring  industry,  and  with  the  same  irresistible 
appearance  as  an  elephant.  He  spoke  in  a  soft, 


66  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

sing-song  voice  that  was  pleasant  to  the  ear,  and 
like  many  large  and  powerful  animal  organisms 
he  was  of  a  mild  and  gentle  disposition.  That 
he  never  took  offence  at  the  mimicking  of  his 
accent  or  at  the  practical  jokes  that  were  played 
upon  him  was  due  to  his  innate  sweetness  of 
disposition  and  as  well  to  his  size  and  extraor- 
dinary muscular  development,  for  he  had  little 
need  to  care  for  his  own  dignity.  A  blow  from 
his  fist  would  have  been  like  the  kick  of  a  horse; 
he  knew  it  and  every  man  in  the  forecastle  knew 
it,  and  therefore  'Arry  Ketchold  had  never 
need  for  a  blow,  and  blows,  I  fancy,  were  not 
unknown  in  our  forecastle,  our  crew  being  what 
they  were. 

The  watch  were  clustered  about  wherever  they 
could  find  a  comparatively  safe  perch,  and,  as 
is  the  habit  with  physically  fit  men  well  used 
to  a  dangerous  life,  they  were  as  uproariously 
merry  as  a  picnic  party,  and  were  betting  their 
wages  on  just  how  long  the  ship  would  float  after 
the  hurricane  had  overtaken  us.  There  was  not 
a  distraught  nerve  among  them,  and  well  paid, 
well  fed,  and  well  worked,  sound  in  wind,  limb, 
and  digestion,  they  would  have  been  equally 
unabashed  on  Judgment  Day. 

Captain  Hawks,  grave  and  alert,  with  slightly 
corrugated  brow  stood  clutching  the  bridge  rail 
thoughtfully  watching  his  ship.  At  intervals  he 


A  TEST  FOR  SEAMANSHIP        67 

swung  himself  ape-like  down  to  the  charthouse 
to  consult  the  barometers,  and  a  slight  shake  of 
his  head  to  me  when  he  returned  would  mean 
that  low  as  they  were  they  were  still  dropping. 
We  were  playing  tag  with  a  cyclone,  and  the 
game  was  becoming  long-drawn-out.  The  course 
was  changed  slightly  to  the  southerly,  yet  the 
conditions  remained  the  same  so  far  as  the  sea 
and  the  absence  of  wind  were  concerned.  No  one 
thought  of  meals,  of  course,  though  Wilfred, 
with  his  heavy  weather  doors  shut,  had  pre- 
pared coffee  and  a  hot  stew  for  any  one  who 
chose. 

The  little  man  paid  frequent  visits  to  the 
bridge-deck  below  us,  and  he  took  his  life  in 
his  hands  every  time  he  did  so.  He  remained 
wet  and  cheerful  and  vastly  interested,  as  in- 
deed this  was  an  uncommon  experience  for  any 
man.  The  ship  behaved  as  well  as  she  could  be 
expected  to  behave.  The  conditions  were  such 
that  one  felt  that  no  ship  could  continue  to  live 
long,  no  matter  how  well  built,  nor  how  skil- 
fully handled.  And  then,  toward  five  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  we  approached  our  nearest  to  the 
cyclone.  The  wind  came  away  suddenly.  We 
heard  it  coming  before  it  arrived,  and  the  sound 
of  its  cataclysmic  approach  was  awe-inspiring. 
It  was  a  combination  of  a  deep,  booming  note 
in  which  was  discernible  a  high,  penetrating 


68  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

whistle  and  a  great  hissing.  Its  onslaught 
was  the  swiftest  I  have  ever  known.  One  mo- 
ment it  was  a  dead  calm,  and  the  next  the  air 
had  come  upon  us  like  a  landslide,  and  the  bare 
steamer  heeled  over  like  a  sailing  vessel  struck 
by  a  ferocious  squall.  Yet  this  was  only  the  out- 
side shell  of  the  real  hurricane,  a  mere  flick  of 
wind,  as  it  were.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  the 
barometers  touched  then*  lowest. 

With  the  coming  of  the  wind  we  five  men 
upon  the  bridge  lost  touch  with  one  another. 
The  night  descended  soon  after  with  a  blackness 
of  black  velvet  and  added  to  our  isolation. 
Savage  daggers  of  lightning  raked  the  southern 
sky,  illuminating  a  really  terrific  scene.  The  sea 
was  now  one  mass  of  white  and  roaring  like 
Niagara.  Our  helplessness  upon  the  bridge  was 
now  complete.  We  might  have  butted  end  on 
into  a  continent,  a  reef,  or  another  ship.  The 
spray  was  not  spray,  but  solid  sheets  of  water 
that  drove  across  us  and  high  over  the  ship  in  a 
manner  no  man  could  face.  Crouched  and  cling- 
ing, we  could  not  even  communicate  with  the 
engine-room.  At  times  the  bridge  was  swept, 
and  the  weather  cloths,  long  since  gone  to  rib- 
bons, gave  no  shelter  from  the  sustained  on- 
slaught of  the  wind.  There  was  nothing  left  for 
us  to  do  but  continue  to  persist,  to  persevere, 
and  to  trust  to  the  good  men  in  the  engine-room, 


A  TEST  FOR  SEAMANSHIP         69 

to  good  materials  and  good  construction.  I  hung 
on  in  a  not  altogether  unpleasant  state  of  semi- 
coma.  It  was  an  unnatural  weariness,  but  $iot 
precisely  distressing;  I  found  no  great  objection 
to  drowning,  at  that  time,  for  our  circumstances 
were  so  overwhelming  that  drowning  appeared 
a  relief.  No  landsman  can  realise  the  effect  of 
over-exposure  in  such  conditions;  it  leaves  one, 
in  time,  after  many  hours,  without  any  particu- 
lar desire  to  live  or  dread  of  death. 

Dully  I  wondered  how  the  others  were  getting 
on.  Mr.  McLushley  and  his  engineers  would  be 
hard  at  it  as  they  had  been  hard  at  it  for  the  last 
twelve  hours.  In  the  stoke-hold  they  would  be 
shovelling  as  they  had  been  shovelling  coal  for 
the  last  twelve  hours,  and  occasionally  Mr.  Mc- 
Lushley would  make  his  dangerous  way  from 
the  engine-room  to  the  stoke-hold  and  demand 
more  steam,  and  he  would  probably  have  a 
spanner  in  his  hand  to  emphasise  his  demands, 
for  the  men  would  be  dog-weary  and  perhaps 
a  little  mutinous  and  dazed. 

I  wondered  idly  where  the  watch  had  got  to, 
and  I  wondered  what  Cert'nly  Wilfred  was  doing. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  as  I  learned  later,  the  little 
cook  was  seated  in  his  "Office''  smoking,  and, 
wedged  tightly,  was  listening  to  the  insane  tu- 
mult without  and  wishing  that  there  was  some- 
thing to  do. 


70  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

At  some  indefinite  time  later,  I  became  aware 
that  Captain  Hawks  had  left  the  bridge.  He 
announced  his  return  by  yelling  in  my  ear: 
"We  have  done  it!  The  glass  is  rising!!" 

We  had  dodged  the  hurricane. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A   DIFFERENT  WORLD 

IT  is  only  to  be  expected  that  a  mathematical 
maniac  such  as  Captain  Hawks  should  exercise 
the  greatest  nicety  in  making  his  landfalls.  He 
prided  himself  upon  being  able  to  say,  toward 
the  end  of  a  voyage,  "At  two-fifteen  to-morrow 
morning  we  will  raise  the  Leghorn  Light  and 
bring  the  island  of  Gorgona  abeam";  or,  "By 
three  bells  this  afternoon  Trincomali  will  be  two 
points  on  the  starb'd  bow";  and  I  have  seldom 
known  him  wrong.  There  are  a  few  occasions, 
however,  such  as  any  sailor,  no  matter  how 
skilled,  can  call  to  mind  with  a  shudder  down 
his  spine,  when  an  odd  combination  of  circum- 
stances, such  as  currents  not  marked  upon  the 
chart  nor  mentioned  in  sailing  directions,  and 
a  faulty  taffrail  log,  together  with  a  persistent 
fog,  has,  sometimes,  a  really  astonishing  result, 
a  result  undreamed  of  by  the  underwriters  of 
ships.  These  incidents  a  shipmaster  keeps  to 
himself,  but  he  cannot  keep  them  from  his  mate ! 
Thus,  one  time,  on  a  voyage  from  Bahia  to  New 
York,  Captain  Hawks  and  myself  were  com- 
pletely lost  (as  it  afterwards  turned  out)  for  over 


72  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

twelve  hours!  It  is  just  as  well  that  landsmen 
should  realise  that  the  captain  who  loses  his 
ship  is  not  necessarily  incompetent,  and  to  rec- 
ollect Lincoln's  remark  that  a  man  who  could 
not  make  mistakes  could  not  make  anything! 
At  the  end  of  long  and  carefully  compiled  cal- 
culations, worked  out  independently  of  one  an- 
other, we  pricked  the  ship  off  within  range  of 
Cape  Henry  Light.  Then  the  fog  lifted  and  we 
found  ourselves  inside  the  Diamond  Shoal  Light- 
vessel  off  Hatteras.  We  said  nothing  on  account 
of  the  man  at  the  wheel,  but,  like  the  parrot  in 
the  story,  we  thought  a  good  deal! 

The  town  of  Para  is  sixty  miles  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Tocantins,  by  which  the  Amazon  is  en- 
tered, and  the  Tocantins  Estuary  is,  roughly, 
two  thousand  miles  and  some  odd  hundreds 
from  Galveston,  U.S.A.  The  trip  should  have 
taken  from  seven  to  nine  days,  one  way  or  an- 
other, but  the  hurricane  upset  our  calculations, 
and  it  was  not  until  the  dawn  of  the  seventeenth 
day  that  a  smudge  upon  the  horizon  denoted  a 
tree-smothered  island  and  proclaimed  us  to  be 
a  good  forty  miles  up  the  river.  With  the  sight- 
ing of  that  island,  Captain  Alexander  Esterkay 
heaved  himself  from  a  deck-chair  and  took 
charge  of  the  Martin  Connor. 

On  the  forecastle-head,  beneath  an  awning,  the 
watch  below  and  the  watch  on  deck  sat  about 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  73 

more  or  less  unclothed.  From  time  to  time  a 
man  would  pull  off  what  few  garments  he  hap* 
pened  to  be  wearing,  and  a  friend  would  lowel 
a  bucket  over  the  side,  and,  after  examining  the 
water  minutely,  would  pour  it  over  him,  then 
the  man  would  try  and  find  a  draught  to  sit  in. 
We  had  double  awnings  over  the  bridge  with  a 
foot  space  between  them,  and  large  canvas  ven- 
tilators, swaying  slightly  from  side  to  side  and 
oddly  resembling  immense,  dead,  white  sharks, 
communicated  what  air  there  was  to  the  stoke- 
hold. 

The  island  drew  nearer  and  was  a  dull-green 
solid  substance  at  rest  upon  a  mud-coloured 
ocean,  and  another  island  took  its  place  ahead. 
Except  for  those  two  spots  and  the  colour  of  the 
water,  which  last  had  been  fresh  and  more  or 
less  poisonous  for  the  last  twelve  hours,  the  ship 
might  have  been  in  the  middle  of  the  South 
Atlantic.  Twocents,  in  his  comprehensive  over- 
alls and  a  shirt,  raced  about  with  bare  feet  and 
got  smacked  by  Captain  Esterkay  for  not  wear- 
ing a  hat  in  that  murderous  sun. 

"Don't  yo*  go  round  without  a  hat,  s-o-n. 
D'  yo*  want  to  die  right  off?"  he  enquired  with 
some  emphasis. 

Captain  Hawks,  in  a  thin  linen  suit,  reclined 
in  the  deck-chair  vacated  by  Captain  Esterkay. 
Timothy  Hanks  was  below  trying  to  sleep,  and 


74  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

I  strolled  leisurely  up  and  down  the  bridge 
glancing  automatically  ahead.  On  the  after 
main-deck  Cert'nly  Wilfred  had  fitted  himself 
up  a  carpenter's  bench  for  clock-making  pur- 
poses, outside  the  galley  and  beneath  his  own 
particularly  private  strip  of  much-patched  awn- 
ing. 

Our  deck-fittings,  though  guaranteed  for 
North  Atlantic  winter  weather,  showed  unmis- 
takeable  signs  of  what  the  ship  had  been  through, 
though  the  engineers,  under  the  direction  of 
Mr.  McLushley,  and  with  the  assistance  of  An- 
drew Jackson  Jefferson  Davis,  our  negro  car- 
penter, and  'Any  Ketchold,  the  boatswain,  had 
worked  miracles.  If  you  turn  loose  a  highly 
skilled  and  qualified  engineer,  with  materials,  a 
forge,  steam  power  laid  on  in  pipes  like  water, 
with  clever  assistants  and  a  gang  of  muscular  men 
well  used  to  handling  weights  at  the  word  of 
command,  you  will  see  iron  and  steel  worked 
and  moulded  like  so  much  putty;  you  can,  in 
fact,  stand  back  and  behold  wonders.  The  job 
had  appealed  to  Mr.  McLushley;  he  had  fallen 
upon  it  with  a  cold,  glittering  lust  hi  his  red- 
rimmed,  fighting  eyes  while  Captain  Hawks  and 
myself  had,  so  to  speak,  taken  a  back  seat.  Bent 
and  twisted  iron  had  become  straight,  fractured 
steel  had  been  collared  and  bolted  at  cunning 
angles  and  served  with  wire,  and  wherever  a 


"D'  YO'  WANT  TO  DIE  RIGHT  OFF?" 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  75 

wound  had  been,  a  skin  of  healing  red  paint 
covered  the  repair.  During  this  process  the  ship 
had  rolled  over  tropic  seas  vibrating  loudly  to 
the  music  of  beaten  metal.  But  there  was  a 
legacy  left  us  by  the  tornado  that  Mr.  McLush- 
ley  could  neither  remedy  nor  even  discover. 
The  Martin  Connor  was  taking  in  a  good  deal 
of  water. 

Now,  all  ships  leak  more  or  less,  and  the  Mar- 
tin Connor  was  no  exception.  The  leakages,  or- 
dinarily small,  found  then*  way  to  the  bilge, 
which  was  pumped  out  every  so  often  by  the 
pumps  connected  with  the  engines.  But  this 
was  no  infinitesimal  inflow  and  was  a  matter  for 
consideration.  The  violent  handling  which  the 
ship  had  undergone  had  strained  her  somewhere. 
At  first  we  had  thought  little  of  the  water,  as 
we  had  imagined  that  she  had  taken  it  in  from 
her  decks,  and  Mr.  McLushley  had  promptly 
pumped  her  dry,  only  to  find,  next  day,  that 
there  was  again  an  unhealthy  amount  of  water 
swilling  round  between  her  skins.  Where,  pre- 
cisely, the  leakage  was  situated,  it  was  impos- 
sible to  say,  though  the  chief,  in  a  shocking  bad 
temper,  spent  most  of  a  day  "man-holing"  with 
an  electric  torch.  He  had  emerged  dripping  with 
sweat  and  bilge,  scratched,  bruised,  and  bleed- 
ing, and  he  made  his  report  to  the  captain  in  a 
manner  which  my  commander  would  not  have 


76  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

allowed  from  any  one  else  on  earth.  But  the  busi- 
ness of  examining  a  ship's  bottom  from  within, 
while  at  sea  and  in  tropical  regions,  is  almost  a 
desperate  undertaking.  It  means  hours  spent 
in  the  dark,  in  a  suffocating  temperature,  with 
the  possibility  of  getting  drowned  like  a  rat  in  a 
drain.  It  means  frequent  and  complete  immer- 
sion in  evil-smelling  waters,  and  all  the  time  it 
requires  skilled  and  vigilant  observation.  Mr. 
McLushley  would  send  no  one  but  himself, 
though  he  had  three  highly  qualified  assistants, 
and  that  success  did  not  crown  his  efforts  did  not 
make  him  any  more  pleasant  to  deal  with.  The 
social  atmosphere  of  the  engine-room  was,  so  to 
speak,  tense.  The  lithe  and  muscular  assistants 
went  about  their  work  with  silent  alacrity  and 
with  only  partially  concealed  nervousness.  When 
he  had  carried  his  explorations  as  far  as  it  was 
humanly  possible  to  do,  Mr.  McLushley  ap- 
peared from  the  black  depths  that  had  swal- 
lowed him  for  so  many  hours,  where  warm,  oily 
waters  rushed  with  hollow,  booming  echoes,  and 
sat  himself  down,  grizzled  and  dripping,  on  the 
edge  of  a  yawning  hole  and  wiped  his  face  with 
a  lump  of  cotton  waste  handed  him  in  sympa- 
thetic silence  by  the  first  assistant.  Official  eti- 
quette would  have  allowed  Captain  Hawks  to 
remain  upon  the  bridge,  the  coolest  place  in  the 
ship  with  the  exception  of  Wilfred's  refrigerator, 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  77 

but  no  one  knew  better  than  my  commander 
just  when  and  how  to  unbend  from  the  exalted 
position  of  shipmaster.  The  subtle  compliment 
and  courtesy  paid  him  by  the  captain's  personal 
visit  to  the  engine-room  was  not  lost  upon  Mr. 
McLushley,  but  the  chief  was  too  Scotch  to  be 
over-polite  in  return. 

"Ye'r  a  fine  man  an'  a  sailor,  Captain  Mat- 
thew Hawks,"  said  he,  gazing  upward  grimly, 
"an'  it's  ye'r  meesforrtune  to  ha'  been  born  a 
Yankee  instead  o'  Scotch." 

Captain  Hawks  waited  with  shut  lips  and 
with  a  smile  somewhere  in  the  background  of 
his  expression. 

"We  are  takin*  in  watter  to  the  disgraceful 
tune  o'  some  ten  to  fifteen  gallons  perr  hour,  an' 
the  leakage  will,  in  a'  probabeelity,  increase  to 
an  enorrmous  extent.  Wharr  it  is  I  canna'  say; 
how  caused  I  dinna'  ken;  an'  to  put  it  precisely, 
I  know  no  more  than  I  did  this  morn,  an'  neither 
do  you." 

Captain  Hawks  nodded.  "Have  a  cigar?" 
said  he. 

"Ah!"  replied  the  chief,  and  with  a  begrimed 
thumb  and  second  finger  (the  first  had  long  since 
been  missing  at  the  joint)  he  picked  a  cigar 
delicately  from  the  captain's  extended  case. 
The  first  assistant  offered  a  match  with  zealous 
attention,  and  for  a  moment  Mr.  McLushley 


78  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

smoked  in  silence  while  the  grimness  of  his  ex- 
pression relaxed  slightly  under  the  soothing  in- 
fluence of  really  good  tobacco.  Then,  rising,  he 
began  to  divest  himself  of  his  shirt  and  trousers, 
his  sole  articles  of  clothing  at  the  time. 

"I  have,"  said  he,  his  head  on  one  side  to  keep 
the  smoke  out  of  his  bloodshot  eyes,  "some 
pumps  that  will  throw  a  sizeable  stream.  There 
is  no  eemmeediate  cause  f'r  alarrms." 

He  was,  by  now,  standing  a  picture  of  thin, 
hard,  rust-streaked  bone  and  muscle  turning 
black  and  blue  from  bruises.  He  was,  as  Cap- 
tain Hawks  said  afterwards,  no  drawing-room 
ornament,  but  he  was  all  of  a  man. 

"I'll  go  an'  have  a  bath,"  said  he,  "an*,  Mac- 
Phail,  you  tell  yon  oiler  to  cast  this  dunnage  o' 
mine  overside.  When  I  am  clean,  Captain 
Hawks,  I  will  make  ma  full  report  in  pairson. 
But  at  present  I  stink  like  a  polecat  that  has 
been  living  doon  a  sewer,  an'  I  am  no  fit  com- 
pany for  myself,  let  alone  ither  folk." 

So  much  for  the  leak,  and  it  remained  to  be 
seen  if  it  would  develop  into  anything  serious. 
It  was  just  one  of  the  many  difficulties  that  as- 
sailed us  upon  that  cruise,  a  cruise  that  will 
always  remain  in  my  mind  as  one  beset  by  the 
unexpected.  For,  looking  back,  I  now  realise 
how  greatly  we  had  underrated  the  vindictive 
power  and  malignant  attention  of  the  Rio  Mara- 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  79 

non  Rubber  Company,  and  that  so  essentially 
sound  a  ship  as  the  Martin  Connor  should  be 
damaged  by  a  hurricane  en  route  seemed  a  gra- 
tuitous blow  of  ill-fortune. 

As  the  day  progressed,  a  haze  upon  the  south- 
easterly horizon  told  of  the  river  bank.  Now,  in 
regarding  the  Amazon,  —  or  Amazonia,  as  all 
that  vast  country  that  is  alternately  flooded 
and  drained  by  the  Amazon  River  is  called,  — 
it  is  necessary  to  clear  the  mind  of  all  previous 
ideas  concerning  rivers.  The  navigation  of  the 
Amazon  is  unlike  all  other  river  navigation  on 
account  of  the  scale  in  which  Nature  has  chanced 
to  plan  things,  and  as  well  the  proceeding  is 
accompanied  by  incidents  that  are  bizarre,  to 
say  the  least.  Thus,  you  will  have  an  ocean- 
going steamer  porting  her  helm  to  avoid  a  float- 
ing island  populous  with  monkeys,  or  a  four- 
thousand-ton  tramp  from  New  York,  Liverpool, 
or  Antwerp  a  thousand  miles  inland  from  the 
sea,  with  alligators  rubbing  against  her  anchor 
chains. 

No  one  in  the  Martin  Connor,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Captain  Alexander  Esterkay,  had  ever 
been  up  the  Amazon  before,  and  for  us  there 
was  a  continual  entertainment,  and  an  endless 
procession  of  daily  incidents  that  were  interest- 
ing, if  not  always  of  a  pleasant  nature.  Captain 
Esterkay  knew  "the  stream"  as  far  as  Achual 


80  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

Point,  —  twenty-seven  hundred  and  eighty-six 
miles  from  the  sea.  And  he  had  been  higher, 
penetrating,  in  fact,  right  into  the  remote  inter- 
Andean  plateau  toward  Lake  Titicaca  in  Southern 
Peru.  How  so  lethargic  a  man  had  accomplished 
such  really  prodigious  journeys,  accompanied,  as 
they  must  have  been,  by  all  manner  of  bodily 
risks  and  extreme  discomforts,  I  was,  at  first, 
at  a  loss  to  understand.  And  then,  even  before 
we  arrived  at  Para,  I  understood.  Captain 
Esterkay,  whom  I  had  considered  the  laziest 
man  on  earth,  had  a  strange  and  passionate  in- 
terest for  and  understanding  of  Amazonia  and 
all  it  contained,  much  as  a  man  can  have  a  pas- 
sionate interest  in,  say,  oceanography  or  extinct 
civilizations.  And  certainly  he  knew  a  very  great 
deal  about  the  country  in  an  instinctive  way. 
He  could  tell  you  things  that  are  not  written  or 
writeable  in  books;  he  told  us  things  that  would 
not  be  believed  by  the  people  who  have  never 
been  more  than  a  hundred  miles  from  a  street 
lamp,  a  barber  shop,  or  a  policeman.  But  we 
believed  what  he  said.  We  just  sort  of  knew  he 
was  right. 

By  daylight  upon  the  following  morning  we 
raised  Para,  or,  to  give  it  its  full  name,  Santa 
Maria  de  Nazareth  de  Belem  do  Grao  Para,  and 
shortly  after  sun-up  we  dropped  anchor  and 
awakened  the  echoes  with  our  whistle.  A  launch 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  81 

flying  the  Brazilian  flag  came  fussing  out  to  us, 
and  the  customs  authorities  boarded  us  with 
the  lust  of  piracy  in  their  eyes,  while  Wilfred, 
who  knew  a  thing  or  two,  went  round  locking 
doors.  From  the  ship  Para  appeared  quite  a 
town,  with  street-cars  and  public  buildings.  A 
closer  look  with  the  glasses  showed  up  an  avenue 
of  mangoes  and  a  lot  of  narrow  streets  beyond. 
It  appeared  a  flat  spread  of  dilapidated  houses 
with  here  and  there  a  palm  tree  in  their  midst. 
Gaily  painted  boats  came  out  plying  for  hire, 
but  we  had  the  launch  swung  out  and  down  which 
caused  what  Wilfred  called  "'ard  feelin's"  and 
some  remarks  until  a  few  well-aimed  lumps  of 
coal  from  the  jeering  cook  taught  them  better 
manners  and  that  discretion  is  sometimes  the 
better  part  of  commercial  enterprise. 

We  were  to  be  joined  here  by  the  official  direc- 
tor of  the  Rio  Maloca  Rubber  Company,  to  the 
up-river  headquarters  of  which  we  were  con- 
signed. I  remained  in  charge  of  the  ship,  so  I 
cannot  describe  Para  from  personal  inspection, 
though  Timothy  Hanks,  who  went  ashore  to 
send  picture  postcards  to  a  girl  in  New  England, 
had  little  to  say  concerning  the  place  except  that 
it  was  very  unlike  Boston!  But  from  those  who 
went  ashore  unpleasant  news  began  to  sift 
through  the  ship  concerning  fever,  and  there 
were  some  really  preposterous  stories:  stories  of 


82  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

cargo  boats  rotting  at  their  anchors  up-stream 
with  a  forecastle  full  of  the  dead  and  dying.  To 
these  stories  we  paid  as  little  attention  as  we 
could,  though  some  of  them  had  an  unpleasant 
substantiality  which  was  inclined  to  affect  the 
crew  until  a  large  English  steamer,  one  of  a 
regular  Liverpool  line,  came  slam-banging  past 
us,  bound  a  thousand  miles  up-river,  with  a 
"time-is-money"  appearance,  and  due  back  hi 
Liverpool  upon  a  schedule  as  fixed  as  that  of  the 
New  York  Central  and  Hudson  River  Railroad. 
Captain  Hawks  was  away  early  on  business; 
Captain  Esterkay,  accompanied  by  a  restless 
and  excited  Twocents,  went  later;  and  in  the 
afternoon  Cert'nly  Wilfred  went  ashore  to  buy 
a  hat.  The  launch  was  here  manifesting  its  use- 
fulness and  playing  ferryboat  over  the  two-mile 
stretch  of  coffee-coloured  water  to  the  shore 
under  command  of  'Any  Ketchold  and  a  deck- 
hand. Wilfred  returned  toward  evening,  not 
only  with  a  new  hat,  but  with  a  shocking  black 
eye  and  a  large  —  medium-sized  dog  of  no  known 
breed.  The  dog  had  rough,  short,  wiry  red  hair, 
an  exceptionally  intelligent  face,  a  very  service- 
able mouthful  of  teeth*  a  torn  ear,  and  a  tail 
that  was  neither  short  nor  long.  Wilfred  had 
christened  him  "Stadger"  and  had  acquired  him 
from  his  former  owner  by  violence.  From  what 
I  could  gather,  and  from  what  I  could  surmise, 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  83 

a  considerable  dust-up  must  have  occurred,  and 
in  this  wise. 

Wilfred,  promenading  affably  in  a  new  hat  of 
vast  dimensions,  heard  the  high-drawn  scream 
of  a  dog  in  pain.  Now  that  is  a  sound  which  no 
decent  man  can  hear  without  protest.  Wilfred 
protested.  He  protested  with  his  right  thumb 
under  the  left  ear  of  the  former  owner  of  Stad- 
ger,  who  was  vigorously  engaged  in  beating  the 
dog  to  death  for  having  stolen  some  meat,  a 
costly  luxury  in  Para.  Portuguese  as  spoken  in 
Para  was  incomprehensible  to  Wilfred,  who  knew 
only  emphatic  cockney  English,  but  he  gathered 
from  the  group  of  men  surrounding  the  dog  that 
the  punishment  of  being  tied  to  a  post  and  beaten 
to  death  was  mild  enough  as  judged  by  the 
natives  of  Para,  since  dogs  have  no  souls  and 
since  their  bodies  are  cheap.  Cert'nly  Wilfred 
is  a  very  small  man;  he  is  small  and  delicate;  but 
rage  filled  him  as  he  projected  himself  like  a 
missile  and  smote  the  dog-owner  as  I  have  inti- 
mated with  much  force  and  scientific  accuracy. 
It  is  a  paralysing  blow,  that  of  the  thumb  under 
the  ear,  when  correctly  administered,  and  the 
assault  being  unexpected,  confusion  ensued; 
confusion  that  attracted  the '  wandering  atten- 
tion of  an  American  seaman  who  was  ashore 
from  an  American  tramp  at  anchor  in  the  roads. 
At  that  the  dog  showed  its  unusual  intelligence, 


84  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

and  perhaps  he  had  a  long  bill  against  his  mas- 
ter. At  any  rate,  Stadger  seems  to  have  realised 
that  rescue  was  at  hand  and  that  his  rescuer  was 
that  most  subtle  being,  a  dog-person,  or  person 
understanding  of  and  understood  by  dogs,  for 
Stadger  did  not  hesitate  to  throw  in  his  forces 
with  Wilfred,  as  soon  as  Wilfred  had  cut  the 
cords  that  lashed  the  dog  to  the  post.  The  for- 
mer owner  of  the  dog  had  folded  up  on  the 
ground,  but  his  friends  surrounded  Wilfred  with 
drawn  knives  in  a  threatening  ring.  At  this 
juncture  the  American  sailor  arrived,  a  large 
and  effective  man  quite  disposed  for  a  row  on 
general  principles.  Wilfred,  with  his  back  to 
a  wall,  and  with  the  dog  at  his  side  snarling  at 
their  enemies,  was  hopelessly  outclassed,  but 
the  little  cook  was  guying  the  crowd  in  the 
highly  personal  fashion  of  East  London.  The 
American  was  not  slow  in  realising  the  situation 
and  that  another  white  man  was  in  for  real 
trouble,  though  apparently  wholly  unabashed. 
He  came  to  the  assistance  of  his  blood-brother 
in  a  silent  and  business-like  manner,  and  began 
hitting  in  a  ding-dong,  unhurried  way  with  a 
full-sized  pair  of  fists  at  the  end  of  a  full-sized 
pair  of  arms.  At  that  the  situation  became 
more  or  less  acute.  Wilfred,  the  American,  and 
Stadger  were,  as  the  little  cook  put  it,  "all  in." 
But  they  got  out,  and  Wilfred,  the  American, 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  85 

and  Stadger  thoroughly  enjoyed  themselves  in 
doing  so.  The  end  came  with  the  arrival  of 
some  municipal  guard,  or  police,  and  the  three 
had  to  run  to  avoid  getting  locked  up.  They 
arrived  in  the  central  part  of  the  town,  where, 
having  outdistanced  the  pursuit,  they  sat  down, 
drew  breath,  shook  hands,  quenched  their  thirst, 
and  licked  their  wounds  respectively.  That  is 
how  Cert'nly  Wilfred  acquired  Stadger,  and  how 
it  was  that  Stadger  became  a  responsible  and 
much  appreciated  member  of  the  ship's  company. 
Captain  Hawks  returned  after  dark,  and  with 
him  came  the  director  of  the  Rio  Maloca  Rubber 
Company,  who  was  coming  up-stream  with  us, 
and  my  commander  did  not  seem  quite  at  his 
ease.  The  director,  who  rejoiced  in  the  name  of 
Alonzo  Makepeace  Massingbird,  struck  a  false 
note  in  our  company;  I  was  aware  of  this  from 
the  first,  and  it  explained  the  constraint  in  the 
captain's  manner.  Mr.  Alonzo  Makepeace  Mas- 
singbird was  a  small  man,  suspiciously  dark  in 
complexion  and  fundamentally  flashy.  He  be- 
longed to  an  altogether  different  world.  He 
reeked  of  cities  and  doubtful  commercial  under- 
takings, and  he  wore  on  and  about  his  person 
some  jewellery  of  no  mean  'order.  There  was 
about  him  an  assumed  suavity,  and  his  mobile 
mouth  was  scored  about  by  betraying  lines  that 
suggested  a  "ready-to-wear"  and  shark-like 


86  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

smile.  In  the  midst  of  this  sham  and  pretence  his 
tired  eyes  looked  forth  infinitely  weary,  wholly 
disillusioned,  and  perpetually  suspicious. 

Speaking  metaphorically,  Mr.  Massingbird 
deluged  us  in  rubber  and  financial  matters 
generally.  He  ate  rubber,  drank  rubber,  and 
breathed  rubber.  He  was  one  of  those  maniacs 
with  but  one  idea,  possessed  by  but  one  object 
in  life,  which  all  his  thoughts,  aspirations,  and 
actions  obeyed.  And  his  object  in  life  concerned 
rubber  and  rubber  shares.  Never  have  I  met  a 
man  more  destitute  and  blind  and  deaf.  All  that 
has  gone  to  make  this  world  and  universe,  and 
all  that  this  world  and  universe  are  going  to 
make  were  as  nothing  to  Mr.  Massingbird.  Even 
the  rubber  itself  was  nothing  to  him;  it  was  only 
the  money  he  could  get  from  rubber  and  the 
manipulation  of  rubber  companies  that  engaged 
his  life  and  what  may  have  stood  for  his  soul. 
Nor  did  he  mind  how  he  got  the  rubber,  that  was 
the  trouble,  and  with  the  advent  of  Mr.  Massing- 
bird I  became  gradually  aware  of  trouble  some- 
where vaguely  ahead.  Had  I  known  how  terribly 
he  was  to  affect  my  own  life,  I  would  have  left 
the  ship  at  Para.  To  get  rubber,  or  rather  to 
make  other  people  get  rubber  for  him,  and  to 
sell  it  at  a  huge  profit  for  a  steaming  six  months 
of  the  year,  then  spend  his  outrageous  profits  in 
Paris,  was  Mr.  Massingbird's  reason  for  existence, 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  87 

and  he  could  not  understand  us,  who,  in  a  very 
short  time,  could  see  no  definite  reason  for  Mr. 
Massingbird's  existence  at  all.  At  first  I  lis- 
tened to  him  with  some  awe.  Such  terms  as 
"first  mortgage  debentures,"  and  "cumulative 
preference  shares,"  "bank  bills,"  and  "brokers' 
deposit  rate,"  and  such  like  incomprehensible 
things  fell  as  easily  and  glibly  from  his  lips  as 
a  man  might  speak  of  upper-topgallant  braces, 
as  though  they  were  everyday  matters,  which, 
I  suppose,  they  were  to  Mr.  Massingbird.  He 
could  not,  in  the  least,  understand  Captain 
Hawks's  attitude  to  us,  nor  our  attitude  to  the 
captain.  To  Mr.  Massingbird  any  one  in  com- 
mand must  necessarily  be  hated.  The  smart 
discipline  of  the  ship,  the  independent,  uncivil, 
and  prompt  obedience  of  Mr.  McLushley,  the 
genial  familiarity  of  Cert'nly  Wilfred,  the  subtle 
give-and-take  between  Captain  Hawks  and  Cap- 
tain Esterkay,  were  utterly  incomprehensible 
to  the  director  of  the  Rio  Maloca  Rubber  Com- 
pany. The  noble  idea  that  is  behind  real  sea 
discipline,  that  robs  servitude  of  all  servility 
and  which  dignifies  command,  was  as  the  fourth 
dimension  to  that  mixture  of  South  American- 
ated  Goth,  Semite,  and  Vandal  known  as  Alonzo 
Makepeace  Massingbird.  He  may,  of  course, 
have  been  a  very  acute  business  man,  but  I  don't 
like  business  men. 


88  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

So  the  first  meal  on  board  the  Martin  Connor 
in  which  Mr.  Massingbird  participated  was 
rather  a  stiff  and  formal  affair.  He  endeavoured 
to  dominate  until  he  caught  Captain  Esterkay 
yawning  behind  his  sunburned  hand  which  dis- 
closure caused  that  amiable  Southerner  (who  was 
the  soul  of  politeness)  much  embarrassment. 
But  Mr.  Massingbird  was  no  fool,  in  many  ways, 
and  perhaps  I  should  not  criticise  him  consider- 
ing what  happened,  but  he  made  us  all  uncom- 
fortable, for,  after  the  discovery  of  Captain 
Esterkay's  yawn,  —  and  it  was  such  a  whole- 
hearted yawn,  too,  —  Mr.  Massingbird  real- 
ised that  he  was  not  appreciated  and  so  dropped 
into  a  sudden  and  suspicious  silence,  with  his 
head,  no  doubt,  full  of  all  manner  of  absurd 
reasons  for  our  lack  of  interest  in  financial  af- 
fairs ! 

The  meals  in  the  cabin  were  usually  happy 
and  jovial.  Wilfred,  as  I  have  said  elsewhere, 
was  a  cook  for  princes.  There  was  always  a 
steady  flow  of  conversation  and  generally  an 
argument,  and  the  arguments  extended  over  a 
wide  field  and  might  concern  the  heeling  error 
of  compasses  or  the  best  method  of  growing 
pomegranates. 

There  was  some  complication  over  the  matter  of 
pilotage  which  was  handled  by  my  commander 
in  his  usual  rather  sweeping  manner  which  did 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  89 

not  endear  him  to  authorities.  Certain  Brazilian 
regulations  demanded  Brazilian  pilots,  but  Cap- 
tain Hawks  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  either, 
snapping  his  fingers  at  both,  and  rather  un- 
wisely wagging  the  Stars  and  Stripes  in  the  face 
of  the  river  authorities.  But  at  that  time  we 
none  of  us  had  any  real  notion  of  the  full  power 
of  the  Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Company,  nor 
how  minutely  they  were  watching  us.  Voluble 
torrents  of  language  flowed  from  the  authorities, 
and  Captain  Hawks  chose,  with  great  delibera- 
tion, a  fresh  cigar.  The  authorities  danced  and 
waved  their  arms,  and  the  captain  lit  his  cigar. 
The  authorities  pirouetted  in  extreme  agitation, 
and  the  captain  laid  his  heavy  hand  upon  the 
bridge  telegraph  and  swung  it  clattering  down 
to  "Stand  By."  The  authorities  left,  fulminat- 
ing, when  we  were  under  weigh,  and  the  disturb- 
ance of  our  passage  through  the  water  and 
their  own  clumsiness  nearly  capsized  them,  to 
our  grinning  entertainment.  A  freshly  peeled 
onion,  aimed  by  Wilfred,  called  down  upon  him 
an  official  rebuke  from  the  smiling  captain,  but 
the  onion  caught  a  Brazilian  in  the  eye,  all  the 
same,  and  must  have  hurt,  too,  judging  by  the 
smack  of  impact  and  his  loud,  explosive  yell. 
Thus  we  left  Para,  in  no  very  good  case  to  ask 
for  protection  from  the  Rio  Maranon  Rubber 
people,  had  we  wanted  it. 


90  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

The  Amazon  River  is  not  entered  by  its  nat- 
ural mouth,  but  by  the  Tocantins  Estuary.  This 
is  because  of  a  vast  expanse  of  sand  that  has 
heaped  itself  in  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon  and 
over  which  there  sweeps  a  bore  wherever  the 
soundings  are  not  more  than  about  four  fathoms. 
This  wave,  at  the  precise  instant  when  the  in- 
flowing tide  overcomes  the  river  current,  ad- 
vances at  the  rate  of  from  ten  to  fifteen  miles  an 
hour,  and  varies  in  height,  reaching  as  much  as 
twelve  and  fourteen  feet  in  places.  As  the  Ama- 
zon is  about  one  hundred  miles  wide  at  its  mouth, 
this  wave  must  be  worth  seeing  and  hearing,  and 
is  quite  in  keeping  with  the  general  scale  and 
character  of  things  in  that  part  of  the  world. 

It  was  therefore  not  until  some  time  after 
leaving  Para  that  we  were  genuinely  in  the 
Amazon  proper,  though  Amazon  conditions  soon 
made  themselves  apparent.  The  first  of  these 
was  the  sudden  descent  upon  the  ship  of  myr- 
iads of  insects  that  hummed,  buzzed,  piped, 
droned,  stung,  crawled,  walked,  hopped,  and 
flew  in  uncounted  multitudes,  in  your  bunk, 
clothes,  books,  food,  and,  worst  of  all,  about 
your  person.  First  one,  then  another  of  us  would 
start  and  clap  his  hand  to  himself  with  a  crack 
like  the  report  of  a  pistol  and  with  a  little  re- 
mark that  needs  no  repetition;  or  would  start 
rooting  beneath  his  clothing  with  one  or  both 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  91 

hands  while  an  expression  of  growing  alarm 
would  spread  across  his  face.  The  first  creature 
to  arrive  was  a  monster  with  many  legs,  a  spiked 
helmet  like  a  German  soldier's,  a  fully  equipped 
stinging  outfit  which  he  manipulated  with  great 
skill,  and  the  greatest  conceivable  energy.  This 
thing  arrived  droning  like  a  biplane  and  —  ac- 
cording to  Wilfred  —  barking  like  a  dog. 

There  were  others! 

Wilfred  ceased  making  clocks  in  his  spare  time 
and  started  collecting  these  creatures,  and  the 
larger  and  more  deadly  the  captive  the  greater 
and  shriller  was  his  joy.  From  the  captain  he 
obtained  some  insect-killer,  and  with  this  on  cot- 
ton waste  in  a  pickle  jar  he  made  a  killing-bottle. 
Thus  armed  with  this  engine  of  death  and  ac- 
companied by  Stadger,  he  busily  stalked  big 
game  about  the  ship  at  all  hours  of  the  night  and 
day.  By  some  miracle  of  dexterity  he  was  not 
only  highly  successful  in  his  hunting,  but,  for 
the  most  part,  he  escaped  unstung.  In  forty- 
eight  hours  he  collected  a  nightmare  series  of 
the  most  shocking-looking  insects  I  have  ever 
seen.  Later  on,  when  we  were  really  up-country 
and  where  wild  animals  abounded,  the  little 
man  endeavoured  to  collect  what  he  was  pleased 
to  call  a  "mangery,"  by  which  I  think  he  meant 
menagerie;  but  he  was  reluctantly  forced  to 
desist  in  obedience  to  a  strongly  worded  pro- 


92  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

test,  delivered  personally,  from  every  man  in 
the  ship  from  the  captain  downwards.  By  some 
odd  chance  his  usual  ill-health,  his  bronchitis 
and  asthma,  from  which  he  suffered  continu- 
ally in  temperate  and  healthy  climates,  seemed 
to  improve  in  the  most  intemperate  and  un- 
healthy climate  of  the  Amazon.  It  is  sometimes 
the  way  with  small  and  delicate  men,  and  so  it 
was  with  Wilfred,  though  his  well-known  cough, 
which  sounded  so  like  a  man  beginning  to  sing 
into  a  jug,  remained  as  much  a  part  of  the  ship's 
sounds  as,  for  instance,  the  song  of  the  engines 
or  the  rattle  of  iron  shovels  from  down  the  stoke- 
hold ventilators. 

The  Amazon  is  connected  with  the  Tocantins 
by  a  maze  of  incredibly  deep,  natural  canals, 
and  it  was  a  new  experience  to  go  swinging  down 
these  narrow  water  lanes  at  full  speed  with  the 
trees  almost  brushing  our  sides.  And  the  trees 
were  immense.  They  were  not,  of  course,  like 
the  giant  redwoods  of  California  or  the  giant 
gums  of  Australia,  but  the  uniform  height  of  the 
forest  was  twice  that  of  any  forest  I  have  seen 
elsewhere.  As  I  have  said  before,  the  Martin 
Connor  was  as  easy  to  handle  as  a  canoe,  and,  in 
fact,  Captain  Esterkay  twisted  the  ship  about 
very  much  as  though  she  had  been  one.  There 
was  no  break  in  the  forest  wall  except  where 
other  waterways  branched  off,  and  over  some  of 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  93 

the  more  narrow  of  these  the  trees  stretched  in 
leafy  tunnels.  The  verdure  rose  straight  from 
Ijie  water,  the  water  as  often  as  not  disappear- 
ing into  the  forest,  the  waves  cast  up  by  our 
progress  breaking  and  swirling  in  and  around 
the  huge  tree-trunks.  Thus  one  got  no  sight  of 
the  earth  itself;  the  earth  was  covered  and 
smothered  beneath  tepid  water  and  chaotic 
vegetation.  Occasionally  a  snowy  heron  or  cyg- 
nus  would  be  disturbed  by  our  approach  and 
would  rise  and  fly  on  ahead  and  settle  down,  only 
to  rise  again  as  we  drew  near.  It  would  take  a 
far  better  man  than  I  am  with  a  pen  to  describe 
the  first  impression  of  the  Amazon.  We  all 
exhausted  our  vocabulary  of  exclamations  in  a 
very  short  time.  We  had  imagined  a  larger  river, 
or,  rather,  we  had  imagined  the  largest  river 
we  had  ever  seen  magnified  two  or  three  times. 
We  were  therefore  surprised  and  perhaps  dis- 
appointed when  we  emerged  finally  into  the 
Amazon  proper  to  discover  it  no  bigger  than 
the  Mississippi.  The  reason  for  this  was  that  we 
did  not  see  it  all,  its  full  width  being  masked 
by  countless  thousands  of  islands. 

There  were  canoes  and  river  schooners  and 
wood-burning  steamers,  most  unsea worthy-look- 
ing craft  and  most  clumsily  handled  and  laden 
to  the  water's  edge.  The  languid,  half-clothed 
men  on  board  them  did  not  seem  to  mind  what 


94  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

we  said  to  them  through  a  megaphone  when  they 
did  their  best  to  be  run  down,  but  then,  per- 
haps, they  did  not  understand.  It  was  here  that 
we  first  encountered  the  real  Amazon  smell,  a 
smell  that  was  to  remain  in  our  nostrils  long 
enough  to  plant  itself  in  our  memories  for  the 
rest  of  our  lives.  It  was  a  smell  that  was  not 
unpleasant;  it  was  subtly  attractive,  strangely 
reminiscent,  and  exceedingly  sinister.  At  a  re- 
mote period  of  time  our  ancestors  must  have 
known  that  smell  well  enough,  that  thick  odour 
of  primeval  rot !  Doubtless  our  forebears  sniffed 
it  and  found  it  good.  Or  more  likely  they  never 
noticed  it  as  they  swung  gaily  from  tree  to  tree. 
It  is  therefore  a  matter  for  nice  conjecture  how 
and  why  it  was  that  the  Amazon  smell  seemed 
vaguely  reminiscent  and  familiar!  Its  subtle  at- 
traction may  also  have  been  due  to  an  un- 
conscious awakening  in  us  of  a  long-forgotten 
sensation  of  the  nose !  Its  unpleasantness  at  times 
was  due  to  our  delicate  and  super-refined  mod- 
ern nostrils,  and  as  for  its  sinister  quality,  per- 
haps, again,  it  awakened  within  us  the  rapid 
flights  of  fear,  the  knowledge  of  perpetual  dan- 
ger, the  low  cunning  and  alert  suspicions  of  the 
little  monkey  men  and  women  of  the  coal  age! 
But  these  may  be  fantastic  imaginings.  I  yet 
maintain,  however,  that  the  Amazon  smell  does, 
indeed,  affect  a  man  of  any  perception  in  an  odd 


A  DIFFERENT  WORLD  95 

way,  which,  I  am  convinced,  strange  as  it  may 
sound,  has  more  than  a  little  to  do  with  the  shock- 
ing change  that  creeps  over  a  man,  almost  any 
man,  after  a  prolonged  residence  in  Amazonia; 
which  is,  to  a  certain  extent,  responsible  for 
the  iniquitous  individual  engaged  in  collecting 
rubber  there.  This  statement  may  sound  pre- 
posterous, but  if  any  one  laughs  too  loudly  at 
these  remarks,  be  he  a  minister  of  the  Gospel, 
a  scientific  man  with  reasons  for  everything,  or 
just  an  ordinary  kind  of  a  man,  let  him  go  and 
live  for  a  few  years  in  the  upper  Amazon  region. 
Unless  he  is  a  man  in  ten  thousand,  such  a  period 
of  residence  will  work  in  him  a  truly  diabolic 
change. 


CHAPTER  V 

UP   THE  AMAZON 

IT  was  I  who  enjoyed  the  undignified  and  un- 
pleasant distinction  of  being  the  first  to  go  down 
with  fever,  and  Amazon  fever  is  a  particularly 
violent  and  pernicious  edition  of  ordinary  mala- 
ria. Standing  in  the  charthouse  writing  up  the 
log,  I  had  occasion  to  look  at  the  clock  and  I 
was  surprised  to  find  that  I  could  not  read  it. 
I  stared  at  the  well-known,  bald,  white  face 
and  thought  confusedly.  I  could  not  remember 
which  way  the  hands  went  round.  My  head 
'ached  severely,  and  I  felt  as  though  I  had  swal- 
lowed a  steam  radiator  and  a  lump  of  ice;  the 
two  seemed  to  be  fighting  for  supremacy.  I  stood 
and  stared  at  the  clock  and  was  aware  of  a 
gradual  darkening  about  me,  as  though  the  sun 
had  been  obscured  by  the  passage  of  thick  smoke. 
I  glanced  out  of  the  thick,  plate-glass  charthouse 
windows  and  observed  that  the  river  tilted  up- 
hill at  a  surprising  angle. 

"Something  wrong,"  I  commented;  "rivers 
should  n't  do  that  sort  of  thing.  Better  tell  the 
captain."  And  forgetting  all  about  the  half- 
written  log,  I  mounted  to  the  bridge  one  step  at 


UP  THE  AMAZON  97 

a  time  and  there  stood  swaying  and  clutching  the 
rail. 

Captain  Hawks  was,  I  think,  deep  in  a  game 
of  chess  with  Captain  Esterkay.  He  was  always 
playing  chess  with  Captain  Esterkay  and  al- 
ways getting  beaten,  which  fact  gives,  to  a  nicety, 
the  two  temperaments  of  the  men  in  question. 
My  commander  glanced  up  and  stared  emphati- 
cally while  some  one  who  had  borrowed  my 
voice  shouted  from  a  long  way  off  that  the  river 
was  running  up-hill.  The  captain  rose  hurriedly 
and  appeared  swaying  before  me. 

"You  go  and  turn  in,  old  man,"  he  said;  "go 
at  once,  and  I  '11  mix  you  one  of  my  special  qui- 
nine mixtures." 

The  sky  turned  black  and  the  trees  turned 
white  and  I  found  myself  being  embraced  by 
the  captain.  There  then  followed  vast  journey- 
ings  in  space.  I  visited  the  outer  stars,  I  rose  to 
prodigious  heights,  and  like  Tomlinson,  I  dropped 
sun  by  sun  to  abysmal  depths.  My  steering 
gear  gave  me  constant  trouble;  I  found  it  fran- 
tically difficult  to  answer  my  helm,  and  only  by 
the  very  hardest  work  did  I  manage  to  miss 
hitting  some  terribly  large  stars.  I  worked  till 
the  sweat  rolled  off  me  in  rivers  while  I  yet 
shivered  in  absolute  zero.  When  I  awoke  wea- 
ried out,  I  was  aware  of  great  distress  —  a  vague 
and  terrible  mental  distress  and  a  sound  of  wild 


98  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

tears  and  horrible  anguish.  But  the  distress 
vanished  before  the  old  and  reassuring  familiar- 
ity of  my  cabin  and  the  sight  of  Cert'nly  Wilfred. 
No  angel  could  have  appeared  sweeter  than  he, 
to  me,  at  that  moment.  He  was  bathing  my  face. 

"'Ello!"  said  the  little  man  briskly;  "Grum- 
met's come  back!  Wheer  yer  bin,  George?" 

"Just  there  and  back,"  I  answered  weakly, 
"but  it's  a  long  way.  Give  me  something  to 
drink." 

He  handed  me  a  glass  of  tepid  water  which  I 
swallowed  at  a  gulp. 

"Like  soapsuds  goin'  darn  a  drain,"  com- 
mented the  cook. 

"Some  more,"  said  I,  "and  put  some  ice  in 
it." 

"No  hice  fer  you,  me  boy.  Hice  is  ag'in'  or- 
ders. What  abart  a  drop  of  tea,  old  dear?" 

Gradually  I  got  better,  but  I  was  five  days 
doing  it,  and  I  returned  to  duty  to  find  the  ship 
well  up-stream. 

There  was  no  alteration  in  the  scene.  It  was 
the  same  immense  river  that  in  places  widened 
to  great  lagoons.  We  were  still  steaming  along 
the  left  bank,  the  right  or  northerly  bank  being 
often  but  a  thin  blue  line  upon  the  horizon,  and 
there  was  the  same  maze  of  islands  fringing  the 
shore. 

To  a  man  who  endeavours  to  describe  the 


UP  THE  AMAZON  99 

conditions  prevailing  in  the  Amazon  Basin, 
there  arise  almost  insurmountable  difficulties 
of  language.  A  man  might  possibly  experience 
the  same  trouble  did  he  try  to  describe  a  per- 
sonal visit  to  the  moon.  Unless  the  reader  is 
ready  and  prepared  to  accept  certain  fantastic 
facts  for  granted  and  is  fully  aware  that  the  re- 
gion under  discussion  is  a  preposterous  enormity 
of  Nature,  mere  words  are  inadequate.  The 
Amazon  is  out  of  scale  with  this  world;  it  belongs 
to  a  much  bigger  place  than  this  pill  of  a  world 
of  ours.  At  some  incomputable  period  of  time, 
ages  and  ages  and  ages  ago,  it  is  thought  that 
the  Amazon  Valley  was  an  inland  sea  rather 
smaller  than  the  Mediterranean,  or,  to  bring  it 
home,  about  as  large  as  from  Chicago  to  New 
Orleans  one  way  and  from  New  York  to  Omaha 
the  other.  Into  the  western  end  of  this  sea 
flowed  a  river  that  rose  amid  the  Andes,  and  the 
Andes  were  probably  much  higher  then.  They 
have  been  whittled  away,  so  to  speak,  by  rain 
and  melting  snow.  Through  countless  ages  that 
river,  laden  with  a  rich  deposit,  formed  an  ever- 
widening  delta.  This  delta  in  time  —  there  was 
no  hurry  in  the  process  —  levelled  up  the  de- 
pression in  which  lay  this  great  inland  sea,  and 
while  doing  so  the  river  cut  a  passage  for  itself 
through  its  own  deposit.  Thus,  so  it  is  thought, 
was  the  Amazon  Basin  formed.  Now,  however, 


100  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

the  Amazon  is  not  a  river,  it  is  a  vast  body 
of  water  extending  for  thousands  of  miles  over 
an  almost  level  floor  of  ooze.  This  area,  three 
quarters  the  size  of  the  United  States,  extends 
and  contracts  according  to  the  seasons.  At  times 
it  overflows  and  spills  out  into  the  unexplored 
forests  for  unknown  distances,  and  covering 
this  region,  alternately  flooded  and  partially 
drained,  there  extends  a  matted  tangle  of  veg- 
etation that  defies  description.  Hundreds  of 
thousands  of  channels,  ditches,  and  waterways 
cut  and  wind  in  every  direction,  and  in  this  de- 
batable area,  half  land  and  half  water,  darkened 
to  a  deep  and  steamy  gloom,  there  dwells,  in  a 
state  of  perpetual  warfare,  a  swarming  multi- 
tude of  animal,  insectile,  and  reptilian  life.  And 
all  this  is  bathed,  soaked,  and  permeated  by  a 
dripping  malarial  climate  that  waters  the  very 
heart  out  of  a  man  and  which  rips  to  pieces  his 
moral  and  nervous  system.  Seldom  is  there  an 
inch  of  earth  revealed  to  the  eye,  and  to  move 
from  one  place  to  another  a  man  must  go  in  a 
boat.  One  seldom  ventures  into  the  forest;  Na- 
ture forbids  it;  and  a  few  yards  from  the  river 
it  remains  as  unknown  to  the  white  man  as  it 
was  in  the  days  of  the  Pyramids. 

Timothy  Hanks,  an  industrious  young  man 
ever  in  search  of  information,  had  been  at  some 
pains  to  discover  the  different  names  and  na- 


UP  THE  AMAZON  101 

tures  of  the  plants  that  composed  that  ocean  of 
vegetable  growth.  I  fear  that  I  am  more  indo- 
lent, or  perhaps  I  care  more  for  the  forms  of 
things  than  for  the  names  given  them  by  man, 
though  it  is  true  that  I  got  to  know  a  tree  fern 
from  a  silk-cotton  tree,  and  I  learned  what  a 
Brazil-nut  tree  looked  like,  but  the  latter  was 
owing  to  happy  memories  of  Charley's  Aunt. 

The  sense  of  sinking  deeper  and  ever  deeper 
into  this  strange,  mysterious,  and  wholly  sinis- 
ter country  was  oddly  insistent,  and  affected 
a  man  with  a  feeling  of  growing  remoteness 
which  the  very  infrequent  settlements  did  noth- 
ing to  dispel.  The  traffic  on  the  river  was  grow- 
ing less  day  by  day,  yet  the  forest  and  the  river 
remained  ever  the  same,  as  unaltered  and  gigan- 
tic as  the  sea. 

The  captain  was  pursuing  a  diligent  enquiry 
for  some  news  of  his  partner,  Colonel  Ezra  Cal- 
vin. At  Para  he  had  heard  nothing,  though  an 
interview  with  the  American  Consul  there  had 
added  to  my  commander's  fears  for  his  partner. 
The  up-river  country,  according  to  the  Consul, 
was  entirely  in  the  hands,  official  and  unofficial, 
of  the  Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Company,  and  any 
man,  no  matter  of  what  nationality,  was  as  good 
as  dead  if  he  made  an  enemy  of  the  all-powerful 
Rubber  Trust.  In  such  a  country  there  are  many 
ways  of  killing  a  man,  either  by  an  arranged 


102  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"accident,"  or  by  deliberate  shooting;  while, 
at  the  best  of  times,  any  man  might  disappear 
through  perfectly  natural  causes.  Just  in  what 
way  the  colonel  had  got  on  the  wrong  side  of 
the  Rio  Maranon  people  was  a  mystery,  though 
I  gathered  from  what  I  had  heard  of  the  colonel 
that  diplomacy  was  not  his  strong  point;  while 
the  sight  and  knowledge  of  injustices  provoked 
him  to  the  openest  of  open  speech.  And  we  were 
beginning  to  realise  that  "injustice"  was  too 
mild  a  word  for  certain  conditions  existing  in  the 
rubber  districts  far  up-stream.  As  yet,  how- 
ever, these  were  only  rumours,  unpleasant  to 
hear  or  contemplate.  But  the  fact  remained 
that  the  very  worst  spot  in  the  whole  wide  world 
for  a  cantankerous,  strong-willed  American  to 
visit  was  probably  the  Upper  Amazon  country, 
especially  if  his  avowed  intention  was  to  open 
up  a  trade  route  in  competition  with  the  Rio 
Maranon  Rubber  Company. 

One  of  the  most  essential  accomplishments  for 
a  sailor  to  acquire  is  that  of  sleeping  at  any  time 
and  of  being  able  to  wake  at  any  moment.  As 
the  navigation  of  the  Amazon  by  seagoing  ships 
is  possible  only  in  daylight,  all  hands,  with  the 
exception  of  a  watchman,  turned  in  at  night  on 
board  the  Martin  Connor.  Yet  I  do  not  think 
that  the  majority  of  us  slept  very  well.  I  would 
lie  in  the  thick  hot  darkness,  counting  the  pas- 


UP  THE  AMAZON  103 

sage  of  the  night  by  the  regularly  recurring  bells 
struck  by  the  watchman  on  the  bridge-deck, 
and  by  the  simultaneous  uproar  from  Wilfred's 
collection  of  clocks  in  the  galley;  these  last  were 
surely  strange  sounds  to  be  echoing  through  those 
Amazon  nights.  Between-whiles  I  would  listen 
to  the  multifarious  and  sustained  hum  of  count- 
less insects,  the  shrill  treble  of  the  mosquito 
being  accompanied  by  a  great  variety  of  un- 
known basses.  These  flying  pests  had  outra- 
geously venomous  notes,  formidable  and  vindic- 
tive, and  there  was  always  the  lively  possibility 
that  one  or  more  would,  with  diabolic  ingenuity, 
wriggle  and  squeeze  himself  through  the  mos- 
quito curtains  that  surrounded  the  bunk.  At 
intervals  the  darkness  palpitated  ominously 
from  sheet  lightning  that  flickered  in  the  black 
depths  of  the  sky. 

Then  there  was  the  unnatural  stillness  to  dis- 
turb one.  There  was  no  sound  of  wind,  no  har- 
bour sounds,  no  sound  or  motion  of  the  sea;  it 
was  fantastically  as  though  the  ship  were  afloat 
in  empty  space.  Then,  to  shatter  a  rather 
pleasant  fancy,  would  come  an  entirely  un- 
known sound  from  the  forest  close  at  hand. 
Now,  a  sound  is  often  not  disturbing  when  it  is 
familiar,  or  when  the  cause  is  known;  but  when 
both  sound  and  cause  of  sound  are  wholly  un- 
known and  strange,  and  often  of  a  most  tragic 


104  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

suggestion,  then  your  eyes  flick  open  to  wide- 
awakeness  and  sleep  kicks  up  her  heels  and  runs 
away. 

Those  night  sounds  from  the  forest  were 
strangely  disturbing.  They  were  peculiar  and  in- 
tense; they  suggested  the  turmoil  of  war,  of  life 
preying  upon  life  in  a  never-ending  series  of 
horrible  and  fatal  surprises  in  the  unwholesome 
darkness  of  that  rank,  rotting  world  of  stran- 
gling vegetation.  They  sounded  oddly  wicked; 
they  played  upon  the  nerves;  they  got  hold  of 
that  remnant  of  the  frightened  child  that  there 
is  in  every  man  and  basely  attacked  his  reason- 
ing faculties;  and  that  Captain  Esterkay,  who 
had  travelled  far  in  this  country,  could  not  ex- 
plain the  cause  of  half  of  them,  added  greatly 
to  their  power  to  disturb.  I  read  far  into  those 
Amazon  nights,  and  all  that  I  read  has  re- 
mained in  my  mind  mixed  with  the  stagnant 
strangeness  of  that  wicked  river. 

Wilfred  also  was  a  poor  sleeper;  moreover,  as 
I  have  said  before,  he  never  seemed  to  go  to 
bed.  As  every  door  was  hooked  back  for  better 
ventilation,  a  light  from  within  shone  out  as  a 
beacon  offering  the  possibility  of  companion- 
ship to  the  sleepless.  Thus,  after  a  time,  I  would 
hear  a  soft  tread  in  the  alleyway,  and  the  little 
cook,  bland,  thin,  and  amiable,  clad  in  pyjamas 
and  smoking  a  cigarette  of  strong,  rank  tobacco, 


UP  THE  AMAZON  105 

would  stand  smiling  at  the  door,  and,  owing  to 
the  intervening  folds  of  mosquito  curtain,  robed 
in  a  certain  stage-like  mystery  like  the  ghost  of 
Hamlet's  father! 

Gradually  the  iniquitous  night  would  pass, 
and  toward  morning  there  would  rise  a  thick 
malarial  mist.  Its  coming  would  be  unnoticed 
until,  glancing  up  from  the  pages  of  my  book, 
I  would  see  the  grey  masses  drifting  down  the 
alleyway  past  the  door.  At  five  o'clock  the 
man  on  watch  would  ring  the  bell  violently, 
perhaps  in  joy  that  his  duties  were  over,  —  and 
really  I  did  not  envy  that  lonely  man,  —  and 
yawns  and  mutterings  would  come  from  open 
doors,  together  with  the  cheerful  crackle  of 
burning  wood  from  the  galley.  A  little  later 
and  the  odour  of  coffee  and  frying  bacon  would 
drift  through  the  ship,  and  with  the  lights  turned 
on  we  would  sit  down  to  breakfast  in  the 
cabin. 

Breakfast  over,  it  would  be  light  enough  to 
get  under  weigh,  and  Captain  Esterkay,  fol- 
lowed by  my  commander,  would  mount  the 
bridge-ladder  while  I  went  forward  onto  the 
forecastle-head.  The  mist  at  that  time  was 
usually  rising  from  the  river  as  steam  rises  from 
boiling  water,  the  growing  daylight  half -reveal- 
ing the  banked  mass  of  foliage  that  marked  the 
wall  of  forest. 


106  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"Break  her  out,"  would  come  the  captain's 
quiet  voice,  non-personal  in  its  official  intona- 
tion. 

Instantly  the  roar  of  the  steam  capstan 
would  shatter  the  morning  stillness  to  little  bits. 
Leaning  over  the  rail  I  would  watch  the  cable 
come  up  dripping  link  by  link,  while  a  man  with 
a  long  pole  would  disengage  from  it  the  festoons 
of  derelict  growth,  and  while  strange,  excited 
fishes  would  swim  round  in  consternation  at  the 
phenomenon.  Those  fishes  held  a  strange  fas- 
cination for  me.  They  suggested,  as  indeed  was 
so,  a  world  of  blood-warm  water  teeming  with 
voracious  life,  rank,  poisonous  and  dangerous. 
I  would  not,  for  worlds,  have  fallen  into  that 
river!  As  the  anchor  appeared, — heavy,  cov- 
ered with  grey  sticky  mud,  untroubled  by  the 
stinging  death  around  it,  a  foreign  thing  forged 
in  the  cold,  inevitable  North,  —  I  would  sign 
with  my  hand,  and  the  uproarious  capstan 
would  cease  its  triumphant  song  of  power,  and 
while  the  forest  flung  back  the  echo  I  would  call, 
"All  clear  for'ard,  sir!"  and  the  engine-room 
bell  would  ring  out  loudly,  hurriedly  com- 
manding, from  the  open  engine-room  skylights. 
The  reply  to  the  bridge  would  come;  a  shudder 
would  pass  through  the  ship  that  became,  in 
a  moment,  the  accustomed  vibration,  and  the 
iron  bows,  festooned  with  the  anchor  awash, 


UP  THE  AMAZON  107 

would  part  the  sluggish  stream.  Thus  the  day's 
work  began. 

Our  progress  was  a  zigzag.  Captain  Ester- 
kay  would  take  the  ship  from  one  side  of  the 
river  to  the  other,  often  without  apparent  rea- 
son, while  Captain  Hawks  would  stand  or  sit  at 
his  side  an  interested  spectator.  There  could 
be  no  complete  or  definite  knowledge  of  such  a 
river.  The  navigation  of  the  Mississippi  is  con- 
ducted in  much  the  same  fashion,  though,  of 
course,  upon  a  smaller  scale. 

As  gradually  the  great  Amazon  engulfed  us,  it 
became  more  and  more  apparent  that  wherever 
the  romance  of  our  destinies  had  taken  us  before, 
we  were  now  in  a  world  of  extravagant  incident. 
Perhaps  the  most  conservative  thing  extant  is  a 
ship,  clinging  as  she  does  to  the  early  Norsemen 
in  her  very  nomenclature;  but  apart  from  this, 
she  is  intended  to  meet  and  compromise  with 
the  heavy  violence  of  the  seas,  while  every  de- 
tail of  her  construction  speaks  eloquently  of  her 
readiness  for  combat  with  the  unstable  waters. 
Therefore  there  was  something  humorous  in 
the  Martin  Connor,  with  her  stout  iron  and 
steel  fittings,  with  her  compact  solidity,  with 
her  staid  and  robust  utilitarian  character,  dis- 
turbing somnolent  alligators  with  her  wash,  or 
anchored  amid  a  field  of  water-lilies  and  sur- 
rounded day  after  day  by  an  impenetrable  forest 


108  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

festooned  with  priceless  orchids,  populous  with 
monkeys,  and  the  home  of  the  wildest  life.  It 
was  like  going  to  Central  Africa  in  a  street-car. 

The  fact  that  we  clung  to  the  ship  as  though 
she  had  been  in  mid-Atlantic  was  also  part  of 
the  extravagance.  We  continued  steaming  as 
long  as  it  was  light;  there  was  therefore  no 
chance  to  go  ashore  by  day,  and  not  even  Wil- 
fred suggested  a  trip  ashore  by  night.  There- 
fore we  made  no  closer  acquaintance  with  the 
low-lying  "igapo,"  or  flood  lands,  for  some 
time.  Here,  in  the  gloom  of  the  forest,  lurked 
various  forms  of  unpleasant  death.  In  these 
flood  lands,  often  inundated  to  a  depth  of  fif- 
teen feet  in  the  rainy  season,  and  for  the  most 
part  bottomless  morasses  in  the  dry  season,  was 
a  swarming  world  of  reptiles,  and  some  of  the 
snakes  were  credited  with  appalling  length  and 
power. 

Quite  unexpectedly,  as  far  as  appearances 
are  concerned,  we  came  upon  a  mud-brick,  bam- 
boo town  standing  between  the  river  bank  that 
was  here  raised  a  few  feet,  and  a  low  line  of 
bluffs  about  fifty  feet  high  a  little  way  back  from 
the  river.  Behind  the  bluffs  was  a  line  of  low, 
rolling  hills,  the  first  land  we  had  seen  that  was 
more  than  a  few  feet  above  the  uniform  dead 
level  of  that  gigantic  valley.  The  river  also 
narrowed  here  to  a  mere  creek  a  mile  wide,  but 


UP  THE  AMAZON  109 

was,  in  consequence,  of  tremendous  depth.  We 
passed  on,  greeting  this  ramshackle  town  of 
Obidos  with  a  friendly  blast  of  the  whistle.  The 
forest  took  up  the  sound  and  flung  it  contemp- 
tuously back  at  us  as  we  steamed  on  into  the 
great  wilderness.  Surely  a  strange  experience 
this,  for  an  ocean-going  ship. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Cert'nly  Wilfred 
began  his  commissariat  negotiations  with  the 
river  Indians,  negotiations  which,  unknowingly, 
were  to  exercise  a  profound  influence  upon  us 
all.  After  we  had  anchored  at  night,  and  if 
there  were  Indians  about,  Wilfred,  with  one  or 
two  men  in  the  launch,  and  armed  with  an  odd 
assortment  of  articles  to  barter  with,  would  go 
in  search  of  a  canoe  and  then  give  chase.  To  give 
chase  was  necessary  and  revealed  in  unmis- 
takeable  terms  just  how  the  Indians  regarded 
white  men  and  just  how  the  alleged  white  men 
of  the  Amazon  Valley  regarded  the  Indians! 
Wilfred's  companions  upon  these  occasions  were 
usually  four  in  number ;  first  of  all  was  Twocents, 
then  one  of  the  engineers  in  charge  of  the  launch 
engine,  a  very  hefty  young  Calif ornian  known  as 
"Rocks," — an  astonishingly  vigorous,  bounding 
youth, — and,  of  course,  Stadger.  Off  they  would 
go  in  the  gloom,  the  little  cook,  tiller  in  hand, 
very  much  in  command  of  the  expedition  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  any  engineer  ranked  higher 


110  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

upon  the  ship's  papers  than  he.  But  upon  'the 
absorbing  subject  of  personality  one  could  dwell 
at  length  —  if  space  afforded.  They  would  mark 
down  a  canoe  that  looked,  in  the  distance,  as 
though  there  had  been  good  hunting  and  fishing 
for  its  owners,  and  then  the  chase  would  begin. 
Of  course  there  were  nights  when  there  were  no 
Indians. 

The  chase  would  end  in  a  tragi-comedy.  The 
Indians  would  fly  for  their  lives  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  would  endeavour  to  dodge  the 
launch,  but  as  the  launch  bore  down  upon  them 
they  would  surrender  with  abject  faces  and 
frenziedly  offer  their  cargo  of  fish  or  turtle 
eggs  or  tapir  or  manatee  meat  as  the  price  of 
their  lives.  And  it  would  sometimes  take  quite 
a  time  and  almost  force  before  the  Indians  were 
able  to  realise  that  exchange,  and  not  murder 
and  robbery,  was  intended.  Then,  in  a  pitiful, 
dazed  manner  they  would  accept  the  brightly 
coloured  calico,  hand-axes,  beads,  and  tobacco 
thrust  upon  them.  But  their  state  of  terror,  no 
less  than  their  incredulous  astonishment  when 
they  found  that  they  were  to  receive  something 
in  return  for  their  wares,  made  a  profound  im- 
pression upon  us  all,  forecastle  and  after  guard 
as  well. 

Gradually,  in  the  wholly  mysterious  way  in 
which  news  has  of  spreading  up  and  down  the 


UP  THE  AMAZON  111 

Amazon,  it  became  known  among  the  river  In- 
dians —  even  far  ahead  of  us  —  that  there  was 
a  steamer  flying  a  striped  flag  with  stars  on  it 
that  paid  for  what  the  Indians  had  to  offer  in 
the  way  of  fresh  food,  and  that  this  was  even 
so  when  dealing  with,  perhaps,  an  old  Indian 
woman  and  a  girl  who  could  have  offered  no 
resistance  anyway!  But  more  than  this  be- 
came known;  something  infinitely  subtle  and 
hard  to  describe;  and  Wilfred's  expeditions  in 
search  of  fresh  food  became  less  difficult  until, 
finally,  fresh  food  was  offered  for  sale  from 
canoes  that  came  alongside  the  ship  as  soon  as 
we  had  anchored  at  night. 

Cert'nly  Wilfred  conducted  his  negotiations 
not  only  in  a  strictly  honourable  manner,  but 
with  a  keen  eye  to  getting  his  legitimate  money's 
worth  on  behalf  of  the  ship,  and  —  and  here  is 
where  the  subtlety  comes  in  —  with  a  certain 
affable  and  sympathetic  understanding  that  had 
yet  the  reserve  of  the  dominating  white  man. 
He  did  not  treat  the  Indians  as  his  equals;  far 
from  it;  he  treated  them  as  very  much  his  in- 
feriors, as,  of  course,  they  were;  but  he  treated 
them  as  inferiors  who  had  rights  and  privileges, 
ideas  and  customs  entitled  tp  all  respect  and 
consideration  —  much,  in  fact,  as  he  treated 
Stadger,  and  had  Wilfred  died  Stadger  would 
have  died  also.  Wilfred  was  an  Englishman, 


112  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

and  it  is  just  this  strange,  instinctive  ability 
which  Englishmen  possess  that  has  made  the 
British  Empire  an  empire  of  four  hundred  mil- 
lion souls.  All  over  the  world  men  of  all  condi- 
tions, stations,  and  nationalities  long  for  sympa- 
thetic understanding.  Men  often  marry  for  no 
other  reason,  and  it  is  the  basis  of  all  friend- 
ship. It  is  the  keynote  of  real  charity;  it  is  the 
gift  of  the  gods,  the  dominant  force  of  real  gen- 
ius, the  excellence  of  true  judgment,  and  is,  in 
short,  divine.  Could  some  superman,  as  greatly 
above  the  white  man  as  the  white  man  is  above 
the  Indian,  offer  the  white  man  his  sympathy 
and  understanding,  the  white  man  would  lie 
down  and  worship.  So  it  was  with  the  Indians. 
They  became  pathetically  desirous  of  our  no- 
tice, though  just  how  the  news  concerning  us 
was  circulated  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  mystery. 

One  evening  as  we  anchored,  there  appeared, 
out  of  the  shades  of  evening  and  the  great 
shadow  of  the  forest  that  was  preparing  for  its 
nightly  concert  of  strange  sounds,  a  canoe 
laden  with  fresh  fish,  and  among  her  people  a 
man  with  a  shockingly  broken  leg.  Wilfred  went 
down  the  ladder  to  do  his  bartering  from  the 
bottom  grating,  and  after  a  moment  or  two  we 
saw  him  push  the  canoe  along  and  minutely 
examine  an  Indian  lying  in  the  bows,  while  the 
other  occupants  of  the  canoe,  three  women  and 


UP  THE  AMAZON  113 

two  men,  endeavoured  to  explain  something 
which  we,  hanging  over  the  side  above,  could 
not  make  out.  Wilfred  turned  to  us  and  called 
up  that  the  Indian's  leg  was  shattered  and  in 
an  advanced  gangrenous  state,  and  that  the 
Indians  wanted  us  to  attend  to  it.  The  cook 
added  weight  to  his  communication  by  an  apt 
description  of  the  injury  which  I  will  not  re- 
peat here,  but  which  was,  all  the  same,  strictly 
accurate.  Captain  Hawks,  with  lanterns,  and 
with  Captain  Esterkay  as  interpreter,  went  down 
to  investigate,  and  I  gathered  from  my  com- 
mander's sudden,  bark-like  exclamation  that 
Wilfred  had  not  overstated  the  case,  for  Cap- 
tain Matthew  Hawks  was  not  afflicted  with  a 
delicate  stomach.  He  called  me  down.  I  went; 
and  I  was  glad  that  I  had  had  my  dinner.  The 
leg  was  rotting  from  the  knee  down,  and  I 
readily  agreed  that  unless  the  leg  was  removed, 
and  removed  quickly,  the  Indian  would  have  no 
chance  of  living  another  week.  How  it  was  that 
the  Indian  was  still  alive  was  a  mystery.  The 
man  was  a  stoic  of  the  first  order,  and  he  must 
have  suffered  the  most  shocking  agony  for  days; 
but  he  and  his  friends  and  relations  positively 
refused  the  captain's  offer  to  rush  the  patient 
down  to  Obidos  in  the  launch.  In  this  they  were 
backed  up  by  Captain  Esterkay. 

"Besides    the    delay,"    said    that    excellent 


114  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

Southerner,  "there  is  no  guarantee,  suh,  that  a 
doctor  will  cut  off  his  leg  for  him  when  he  does 
arrive.  Yo'  see  he 's  an  Indian ! " 

"Then  I'll  cut  it  off  for  him,"  replied  Captain 
Hawks  briskly;  for  there  was  something  infi- 
nitely moving  in  the  attitude  of  these  Indians, 
who  had  come  to  us  in  then*  trouble  because  we 
treated  them  as  human  beings  and  paid  them 
for  our  fish  and  vegetables ! 

Captain  Hawks  ran  up  to  the  deck  and  into 
his  cabin  and  returned  with  a  hypodermic  syr- 
inge, an  instrument  without  which  he  never 
set  out  upon  a  lengthy  voyage. 

"I've  got  no  use  for  pain,  real  pain,"  he  used 
to  say  to  me,  "either  for  myself  or  for  other 
people.  I  don't  see  what  it's  for."  And  more 
than  once  have  I  known  that  hypodermic  of  his 
bring  ease  to  a  poor  human  frame  shattered  and 
mauled  by  some  sea  accident.  But  it  is  an  en- 
gine that  must  be  kept  under  lock  and  key! 

With  complete  trust  the  injured  man  sub- 
mitted to  what  must  have  been  a  very  strange 
proceeding  to  him,  and  in  a  very  short  time  his 
attitude  became  more  relaxed  as  the  merciful 
peace  stole  over  him  and  the  great  power  of 
opium  took  him  in  charge.  The  memory  of  the 
change  that  took  place  in  that  Indian's  expres- 
sion will  always  remain  vividly  in  my  mind  — 
it  was  magical.  By  this  time  the  night  had 


UP  THE  AMAZON  115 

descended  with  its  diabolic  sounds  from  the 
forest.  The  entire  ship's  company  was  intent 
upon  the  business  in  hand;  the  ship  herself  was 
strangely  quiet  now  that  the  engines  had  ceased, 
and  was  ringing  metallically  to  every  footfall. 

"We  have  just  got  to  go  through  with  this, 
Grummet,"  said  Captain  Hawks  privately  to 
me,  "though  I'm  not  sure  that  I  wouldn't 
rather  face  another  full-dress  typhoon.  But 
there 's  no  way  out.  It  must  be  done  and  we  are 
the  only  people  to  do  it." 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  nodded;  and  I  confess  that  I 
was  full  of  dread,  for  I  knew  that  I  must  help. 

"A  white  man,"  continued  the  captain, 
"would  have  been  dead  days  ago,  especially  in 
this  climate,  with  such  an  injury."  Then,  turn- 
ing, he  called  the  little  cook.  "  Wilfred ! "  said  he. 

"Sir?  "said  Wilfred. 

"Shift  everything  moveable  out  of  the  cabin. 
Get  mosquito  curtains  ready  to  cover  all  doors, 
ports,  and  the  skylights.  Hump  yourself!" 

Wilfred  vanished. 

"Now,"  continued  the  captain  to  me,  "who 
in  this  ship  has  the  strongest  stomach  and  the 
best  nerve?" 

"You,  sir,"  I  answered  promptly. 

"Quite  so,"  admitted  Captain  Hawks  simply; 
"but  I  must  have  at  least  three  helpers  and  you 
have  got  to  be  one.  Esterkay?" 


116  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

I  shook  my  head.  "He  has  other  virtues," 
said  I,  "and  Hanks  is  a  bit  young.  Mr.  Mc- 
Lushley,  sir,  I  should  say  has  the  stomach  and 
the  nerve  of  a  steel  bollard  steeped  in  re-en- 
forced concrete.  And  Wilfred,  sir,  though  maybe 
he  has  a  delicate  stomach  — " 

"Wilfred's  afraid  of  nothing  on  earth," 
chuckled  the  captain,  "not  even  of  me!  Very 
good;  then  it'll  be  you,  McLushley,  Wilfred, 
and  myself.  Meanwhile  get  the  patient  aboard 
while  I  start  on  my  preparations." 

I  arranged  four  lines  over  the  side,  passed 
them  beneath  the  canoe,  and  by  means  of  our 
extensive  cargo  tackle  I  swung  the  injured  man 
aboard  without  a  jar  and  without  removing  him 
from  the  canoe,  which  we  placed  in  chocks  upon 
the  after  mam-deck.  The  Indian's  friends  and 
relations  came  up  the  ladder  greatly  excited  and 
much  entertained  with  everything.  The  patient 
himself  lay  passive  and  mute,  free  of  pain  and 
blinking  slightly  at  the  lights.  He  was  clad  in 
the  dirtiest  shirt  I  have  ever  seen,  and  what 
had  once  been  his  leg  was  retained  and  collected 
in  a  blanket.  We  had  a  hair-raising  job  remov- 
ing that  blanket,  too!  He  put  out  his  hand,  and 
smiling  slightly  murmured,  "Terbac,"  and  at 
least  a  dozen  well-filled  pipes  and  as  many 
cigarettes  were  instantly  thrust  at  him.  The 
only  man  in  the  ship  who  remained  antipathetic 


UP  THE  AMAZON  117 

was  Mr.  Alonzo  Makepeace  Massingbird.  He 
displayed  some  contemptuous  astonishment  at 
our  action,  and  was  obviously  puzzled  to  under- 
stand our  motive. 

"He's  not  your  Indian,  is  he?"  he  enquired 
finally. 

This  question  was  overhead  by  some  of  the 
men  and  uncomplimentary  mutterings  answered 
him.  Mr.  Massingbird  looked  angry  and  I  be- 
came uneasy.  Our  crew  were  excellent  men,  but 
meekness  and  gentleness  were  not  their  particu- 
lar virtues.  For  two  pins  they  would,  then  and 
there,  have  pitched  Mr.  Massingbird  over  the 
side  to  the  alligators,  and  Mr.  Massingbird,  who 
was  no  kind  of  coward,  glared  back  at  them 
angrily. 

"I  think  you  are  fools  to  bother  over  the 
Indian  at  all!"  he  remarked  calmly;  and  right 
then  I  was  prepared  to  fight  for  Mr.  Massing- 
bird's  life,  for  as  mate  I  represented  law  and 
order. 

But  Mr.  McLushley,  who  was  standing  gaunt 
and  sardonic  among  us,  and  who  appeared 
equally  unmoved  either  by  the  Indian's  plight 
or  Mr.  Massingbird's  remark,  made  answer,  and 
the  crew,  knowing  that  something  pretty  nasty 
was  thus  guaranteed  to  come,  remained  quiet.  I 
think  that  this  was  only  the  second  time  that  the 
chief  had  addressed  Mr.  Massingbird;  the  first 


118  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

time  had  been  to  inform  him  that  the  engine- 
room  was  private  and  that  "passengers  werre  no* 
admeetud." 

"Mr.  Massingwail,"  said  the  Scotchman  with 
great  clearness  of  utterance,  "there  was  once  a 
gr-rand  Scotch  poet  that  ye '11  no'  have  heerd  of 
called  Robbie  Burrns.  An'  Burrns,  the  eemorrtal, 
once  said  wi'  th'  wisdom  o'  the  gods:  — 

'  O  wad  some  power  the  gif tie  gie  us, 
To  see  oursels  as  ithers  see  us.' 

It  is  a  great  peety,  Mr.  Massingale,  ye  have  no* 
that  geeft  ye'self,  though,  creeation,  man,  it'd 
be  an  aufu'  shock!" 

I  went  forward  to  see  how  matters  were  pro- 
gressing and  found  the  cabin  thick  with  smoke 
from  a  pan  of  burning  disinfectants  that  cleared 
the  place  for  once  of  all  the  countless  insects 
that  used  the  cabin  as  a  sort  of  ballroom  and 
meeting-house  combined.  Captain  Hawks,  in 
his  cabin,  was  collecting  basins  of  antiseptics 
and  the  instruments  to  be  used  in  the  coming 
event,  and  at  the  sight  of  his  preparations  my 
stomach  turned  over. 

All  shipmasters  engaged  in  "blue- water" 
traffic  are  astonishingly  handy  with  doctors' 
tools.  They  have  to  be,  and  it  was  in  keeping 
with  my  commander's  general  character  that 
he  was  more  handy  than  most.  In  fact,  while 


UP  THE  AMAZON  119 

on  this  subject,  I  am  tempted  to  paraphrase  a 
well-known  quotation  as  follows :  — 

"  Oh,  ye  doctors  in  hospitals,  who  operate  at  ease, 
How  little  do  you  dream  upon  the  dangers  of  the  seas!vf 

But  the  amputation  of  a  leg  is  a  serious  mat- 
ter, though  Captain  Hawks  could  lop  off  a 
finger,  pull  a  tooth,  or  put  an  arm  in  splints  with 
any  man.  The  captain  moved  with  a  steady 
deliberation.  He  was  not  going  to  forget  any- 
thing. 

"I  would  n't  do  it,"  said  he,  finally,  to  me,  "if 
I  thought  that  there  was  a  chance  of  any  one 
else  doing  it,  or  if  I  thought  that  there  was  a 
chance  that  the  man  would  live  if  it  was  n't 
done.  But,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  the  man  will  die 
unless  I  cut  off  his  leg,  —  eh,  Grummet?" 

"That's  undoubtedly  so,  sir,"  I  answered, 
and  he  nodded. 

"Very  good;  then  I  must  cut  off  his  leg,  even 
if  I  kill  him  in  doing  it,  —  eh,  Grummet?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  see  no  alternative." 

"Neither  do  I,  but  I  wanted  your  assurance." 
And  he  continued  with  his  methodical  prepara- 
tions in  the  same  unhurried  manner  as  though 
he  had  forced  himself  into  a  state  of  calm  tran- 
quillity. 

As  soon  as  the  smoke  cleared  from  the  cabin 
and  everything  moveable  was  gone  except  the 


120  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

table,  all  the  lights  were  turned  on  and  a  bunch 
of  lights  on  an  extension  from  the  sleeping-cabins 
was  arranged  right  over  the  table,  and  on  the 
table  itself  was  placed  a  tray  of  thin  planking 
over  which  was  drawn  a  sheet  of  rubber-silk. 
The  whole  place  was  sprayed  and  sprayed  again 
with  disinfectants  until  it  reeked  like  a  dozen 
hospitals.  Captain  Hawks,  Mr.  McLushley, 
Wilfred,  and  myself  then  bathed  and  put  on 
clean  pyjamas  and  were  then  ourselves  sprayed 
with  disinfectants  until  we  choked.  Mr.  Mc- 
Lushley, Wilfred,  and  myself  had  our  most  pre- 
cise instructions,  and  both  the  little  cook  and  I 
were  by  no  means  happy. 

"I  wish  it  was  this  'ere  Messybird's  leg  wot 
we  was  goin'  ter  whittle  orf,  I  do!"  muttered 
Wilfred  petulantly,  and  for  the  first  time  in  all 
the  years  I  have  known  him  I  saw  fear  in  his 
expression. 

Only  Mr.  McLushley  appeared  wholly  un- 
moved, and  his  habitual  expression  of  sardonic 
contempt  for  everything  remained  unaltered. 
But  he  trod  as  softly  as  a  cat,  with  a  swift  alert- 
ness in  all  his  movements. 

Then  the  patient  was  brought  into  the  heavily 
curtained  cabin  that  was,  for  once,  free  of  all 
insects.  He  was  semi-comatose  from  his  first 
dose  of  morphia,  while  his  implicit  trust  in  us 
greatly  added  to  his  chance  of  life.  In  fact,  he 


UP  THE  AMAZON  121 

alone  among  us  appeared  to  enjoy  complete  ease 
of  mind!  The  captain  injected  another  dose  of 
morphia  while  I  washed,  antiseptically,  the  leg 
and  arranged  the  tourniquet,  which,  however,  I 
did  not  screw  up  until  the  second  dose  of  mor- 
phia had  had  time  to  work  upon  him.  Wilfred, 
with  compressed  lips  and  a  fiercely  attentive 
expression,  attended  to  the  basins  and  the  boiled 
bandages.  Mr.  McLushley  stood  by  the  Indi- 
an's head,  with  one  eye  upon  the  Indian  and 
the  other  on  the  captain,  or  so  it  seemed,  ready 
to  anticipate  any  gesture.  For  me  there  was  a 
worse  —  oh,  far  worse  —  job ! 

It  was  difficult  with  such  a  patient  to  know 
just  how  much  and  how  little  morphia  to  give, 
and  we  passed  some  awful  moments  watching 
the  Indian's  wide-open  eyes  as  the  pupils  con- 
tracted to  pin-points  in  size.  So  odd  was  his 
change  of  expression  and  so  great  our  suspense 
that  even  Mr.  McLushley  was  startled. 

"Man!"  said  he,  to  the  captain,  though  usu- 
ally he  addressed  the  captain  with  his  full  name 
and  title,  "I'm  thinkin'  he's  deed.  Yon  morr- 
phia's  potent  stuff.  Na!"  he  added,  with  his 
battered  fingers  on  the  Indian's  pulse,  "he's 
alive  so  far." 

We  waited  yet  another  moment  to  make  sure. 

"He'll  do,"  said  the  captain;  then  glanced 
upward  through  the  mosquito  curtains  at  the 


122  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

skylight,  where,  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Mas- 
singbird's,  were  the  collected  heads  of  every  man 
in  the  ship. 

"Now,  not  a  sound,  up  there,"  said  Captain 
Hawks  in  a  quiet  voice,  "or  God  help  you  when 
I  get  through  with  this." 
,    His  order  was  obeyed. 

I  tightened  up  the  tourniquet;  it  was  a  silk 
scarf  and  a  brass  curtain  rod.  When  I  had  fin- 
ished all  was  ready. 

Captain  Hawks  began,  and  whatever  he  might 
have  felt,  his  large,  powerful,  capable  hands  were 
steady  as  a  rock.  No  doubt  doctors  and  nurses 
may  laugh  at  us  and  consider  that  we  cut  sorry 
figures,  but  this  was  not  our  business,  this  busi- 
ness of  amputating  a  leg,  and  the  same  doctors 
and  nurses  that  laugh  might  cut  no  better  figure 
did  they  try  to  navigate  a  ship. 

The  sawing  was  accomplished  in  six  motions, 
and  the  sound  of  it  bathed  me  in  sweat.  Wilfred 
snatched  at  that  which  was  severed  and  stowed 
it  out  of  sight,  while  the  captain  and  I  fell  to 
work  upon  the  arteries  with  linen  thread.  We 
were  not  sailors  for  nothing,  and  the  knots  we 
used  were  swift  and  sure.  And  once  I  fell  ac- 
tively to  work,  my  nervousness  left  me.  Nat- 
urally one  was  intent  upon  the  job  which  done 
well  would  mean  so  much  to  another  man.  The 
worst  was  for  Wilfred  who  had  to  stand  by  and 


UP  THE  AMAZON  123 

hand  things,  and  for  Mr.  McLushley  who  had 
to  watch  for  any  sign  of  returning  conscious- 
ness in  the  patient,  for  remember  that  we  had  no 
proper  anaesthetics.  To  find  the  small  arteries  we 
had  to  release  a  turn  or  two  of  the  tourniquet; 
there  was  then  no  doubt  where  they  were  dis- 
posed !  Then  followed  the  kneading  and  pulling, 
and  the  angle  of  the  cutting  having  been  just 
right,  the  elastic  flesh  came  handsomely  (to  use 
a  sailor's  expression)  over  the  bone  stump,  and 
all  the  time  the  Indian  never  moved  or  made  a 
sound.  Then  followed  the  stitches,  the  boiled 
bandages,  and  the  lint.  The  last  wrapping  fin- 
ished, drawn  tight  and  true  as  though  we  had 
been  serving  the  gear  of  a  dandy  sailing  ship, 
and  we  carried  the  Indian  upon  the  thin  plank- 
ing into  a  cabin  and  laid  him  in  a  bunk. 

The  operation  was  over,  but,  as  the  captain 
said,  it  remained  to  be  seen  if  the  patient  lived. 

We  stood  a  moment  dazed  with  the  effort. 

"Gee-mima!!"  gasped  Wilfred  explosively; 
"I'm  goin'  ter  be  sick,  I  am,  like  a  bloomin'  sea- 
sick passenger!"  And  sick,  indeed,  was  he. 

But  the  patient  lived! 


CHAPTER  VI 

TROUBLE 

WHEN  a  ship  starts  upon  a  voyage,  for  instance 
across  the  Atlantic,  her  people  know,  when  they 
have  dropped  the  land,  that  so  many  days  and 
nights  will  elapse  before  the  ship  arrives  at  her 
destination.  The  mind  accepts  the  situation 
and  instinctively  adjusts  itself  to  the  distance 
that  it  is  necessary  to  cover  to  get  across  the 
ocean.  In  other  words,  you  measure  the  dis- 
tance in  units  of  time.  But  in  the  navigation  of 
rivers  one  has  to  become  accustomed  to  measure 
distances,  not  in  days,  but  in  hours,  and  however 
long  it  may  be,  it  will  be  but  a  trifle  compared 
to  the  days  and  weeks  at  sea.  By  the  above  I 
do  not  mean  the  precise  measurements  necessi- 
tated by  the  exacting  art  of  navigation,  but  the 
instinctive  processes  of  the  mind. 

But  in  ascending  the  Amazon  the  ordinary 
order  of  things  is  reversed,  and  I  was  inclined 
to  consider  our  run  from  Galveston  to  Para  as 
the  trifle,  and  that  the  real  voyage  began  at 
Para.  Of  course,  the  distance  up  the  river  ap- 
peared greater  on  account  of  the  nightly  inter- 
ruptions and  by  comparison  with  other  rivers. 


TROUBLE  125 

Before  the  days  of  steam,  sailing  vessels  are 
reported  to  have  taken  five  months  to  ascend 
from  Para  to  the  junction  of  the  Rio  Negro, 
and  five  months  more  to  reach  the  Peruvian 
frontier.  Beyond  the  Peruvian  frontier  the 
river  continues  for  some  fifteen  hundred  miles 
into  the  heart  of  the  Andean  regions  through  a 
series  of  wonderful  gorges  and  over  innumerable 
falls  and  rapids  that  are,  for  the  most  part,  quite 
incorrectly  charted.  You  will  see  from  this  that 
the  Amazon  is  what  might  be  called  a  good- 
sizeable  river,  and  I  therefore  took  some  time 
before  I  could  get  out  of  the  habit  of  peering 
ahead  in  expectation  of  seeing  the  forest  give 
way  to  the  buildings  of  man;  to  realise,  in  fact, 
that  here  man  was  but  a  trivial  influence  upon 
such  primeval  surroundings.  He  did  not  belong 
in  such  a  place;  he  was  out  of  scale.  It  was 
monotonously  vast  and  never  changing,  smoth- 
ered with  vegetation,  and  always  unbearably 
humid. 

"I  never  don't  want  to  see  no  tree  again,  I 
do,"  said  Wilfred,  with  his  usual  involved  cock- 
ney. "I'm  not  'arf  fed-up  wiv  trees,  I  ain't. 
I'd  like  to  see  a  hiceberg.  I'd  like  to  sit  on  a 
hiceberg.  I'd  like  to  be  frozen  stiff  hinside  a 
hiceberg  —  like  a  sort  of  crystallised  cook,  fer 
that  'ere  galley  is  sompthink  chronic,  with  the 
stove  goin'  full,  in  this  climate." 


126  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

And,  indeed,  the  only  people  in  the  ship  who 
did  not  seem  to  mind  the  heat,  the  continuous, 
ever-present,  damp,  velvety  heat,  were  the  two 
Chinese  stewards  and  Mr.  Massingbird.  The 
two  stewards,  lank,  slim,  and  silent,  each  clothed 
in  but  two  garments,  did  their  work  in  a  Chinese 
isolation  that  invited  no  Christian  intrusion. 
And  over  these  remote  Orientals  Wilfred  held 
sway,  minutely  inspecting  their  work  with  the 
hawk-eye  of  a  housewife,  and  with  a  ready 
tongue  no  housewife  (I  hope)  ever  possessed. 

In  our  zigzag  course  up-stream  we  dodged 
acres  of  floating  islands,  and  some  of  these  were 
of  such  dimensions  as  to  deceive  the  eye  into 
believing  them  to  be  solid  land  until  our  wash 
set  these  tree-entangled  masses  visibly  undu- 
lating. By  day  that  ever-continuous,  slightly 
varying  wall  of  green;  dark,  indescribably  som- 
bre and  silent,  treacherous  and  mysterious;  sug- 
gested some  inscrutable  Sphinx-like  spirit  that 
regarded  us  forebodingly  with  ill  intent.  The 
sense  of  remoteness  took  hold  of  us  all,  a  feeling 
of  loneliness  and  immeasurable  distances.  We 
were  strange,  foolhardy  little  creatures  thrusting 
our  way  with  vain  temerity,  and  the  spirit  of 
the  forest  seemed  to  be  watching  us,  as  though 
we  were  going  to  our  doom.  We  were  going  back, 
back,  back  in  the  ages  of  time,  and  it  was  not 
our  surroundings  that  were  extraordinary,  but 


TROUBLE  127 

ourselves,  with  our  compass,  our  steam  power, 
our  regular,  cooked  meals,  and  our  concerted 
discipline.  We  should  have  been  creeping  about 
with  a  club  torn  from  the  nearest  tree  and  with 
fear  in  our  hearts,  wholly  intent  upon  the 
difficult  problem  of  somehow  keeping  alive  for 
the  sake  of  the  sheltered  generations  to  come. 
Widely  separated  into  warlike,  unreasoning 
bands,  we  should,  when  not  tracking  down  our 
dinner  and  eating  it  raw,  or  bellowing  strangely 
at  the  strong  scent  of  some  unknown  male,  have 
been  sleeping  the  cautious  sleep  of  wild  ani- 
mals. Or,  if  awake  and  not  hunting  or  eating, 
we  might,  perhaps,  have  been  scratching  our 
thoughts  upon  bone,  making  meanwhile  the  in- 
articulate noises  that  were  the  forerunners  of 
man's  eloquence.  It  seemed  no  wonder,  I 
thought,  that  men  deteriorated  shockingly  into 
savages  and  worse  hi  such  surroundings,  and 
this  brings  me  to  the  trouble  with  Mr.  Alonzo 
Makepeace  Massingbird. 

The  incident  was  an  eye-opener  to  us,  but 
was  not  so  to  Captain  Esterkay,  who  knew  well 
the  region  and  the  "white  men"  living  in  it. 
It  was  a  most  emphatic  reminder  that  we,  in  our 
little  sane  and  ordinary  world  composed  by  the 
ship  and  her  company,  were  passing  ever  far- 
ther and  farther  into  a  strange  and  unknown  sur- 
rounding that  we  could  not  hope  to  understand. 


128  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

The  difficulty  came  about  over  the  negro  car- 
penter. 

I  think  that  I  have  already  referred  to  him. 
His  name  was  no  less  than  Andrew  Jackson 
Jefferson  Davis,  and  in  most  ways  but  one,  An- 
drew was  like  any  other  rather  tough  old  negro 
of  the  marine  order.  His  one  startling  peculi- 
arity was  that  he  was  dumb.  He  could  make, 
when  he  chose,  rather  ghastly  and  partially 
comprehensible  sounds;  but  articulate  speech 
had  gone  from  him  one  day  with  his  tongue 
when  he  had  brought  upon  himself  the  ferocity 
of  some  negro  secret  society  in  New  Orleans. 

Andrew  was  engaged  in  repairing  the  mos- 
quito bar  in  Mr.  Massingbird's  cabin,  and  in 
doing  so  he  upset  a  bottle  of  ink.  In  a  blaze  the 
real  Massingbird  showed  himself ,  and  the  sight 
must  have  been  particularly  ugly.  That  Iberi- 
anated  Amazonian  had  the  usual  and  shocking 
attitude  to  men  of  colour,  be  they  Indian  or 
negro,  that  prevails  throughout  Amazonia. 
Now,  my  commander  had  no  false  notions  con- 
cerning negroes;  he  did  not  regard  them  as 
equals  as  do  those  people  who  have  never  really 
come  in  contact  with  them,  but  the  negro  has 
his  place  in  the  order  of  things,  a  place  which  he 
must  keep  and  where  he  has  every  right  to  be, 
and  a  skilled  negro  carpenter,  sober,  industrious, 
and  honest,  is  entitled  to  just  treatment  and 


TROUBLE  129 

respect.  But  Mr.  Massingbird  regarded  all  men 
of  colour  as  —  well,  I  do  not  know  just  how  he 
regarded  them;  for,  on  entering  his  cabin  and 
beholding  Andrew  trying  to  mop  up  the  ink 
with  a  clean  towel,  he  struck  him  a  very  violent 
blow  on  the  head  — from  behind  —  with  the 
butt  of  a  six-shooter  which  he  habitually  car- 
ried about  with  him.  Andrew,  hi  spite  of  his 
negroid  skull,  went  down  as  though  pole-axed. 
It  is  difficult  to  say  precisely  what  would  then 
have  happened  had  not  Cert'nly  Wilfred  hap- 
pened by  at  the  moment  and  to  have  observed 
the  blow.  Possibly  Mr.  Massingbird  intended 
to  use  his  feet  to  the  prostrate  negro.  I  do  not 
know.  I  do  not  understand  those  persons  who 
are  engaged  in  the  rubber  industry  of  the  Ama- 
zon, and  I  do  not  want  to. 

Wilfred  stood  stock-still  with  sheer  amaze- 
ment at  the  baseness  of  the  action,  and  then,  as 
was  the  little  man's  habit  on  most  occasions,  he 
opened  his  mouth  in  speech.  He  said  just  pre- 
cisely what  was  in  his  mind  —  as  was  also  his 
habit  —  and  what  was  in  his  mind  was  just 
what  would  have  been  in  any  other  decent  man's 
mind  after  witnessing  such  an  action.  I  do  not 
expect  that  Mr.  Massingbird'  understood  one 
word  in  ten  of  the  little  man's  vitriolic  cockney, 
for,  when  really  roused,  words  streamed  from 
Wilfred  as  water  streams  from  a  fire  hydrant. 


130  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

No  man,  not  even  a  Latin,  can  beat  the  real 
cockney  in  wealth  or  diversity  of  epithet,  and 
where  the  Latin  is  inclined  to  lose  point  by 
picturesque  (artistic  ?)  exaggeration,  there  is  a 
cutting  aptness  in  the  true  Londoner's  tirade 
that  bites  like  an  acid.  Mr.  Massingbird  may 
not  have  grasped  the  detail,  but  he  understood 
the  general  trend  of  Wilfred's  remarks,  and,  in 
consequence,  advanced  upon  the  cook,  sliding 
his  revolver  back  into  his  pocket,  for  Wilfred 
was  a  white  man  and  could  not  be  shot  down 
there  and  then. 

Nothing  could  have  pleased  Wilfred  more  than 
Mr.  Massingbird's  advance,  and  according  to 
the  cook's  account  he  *  'it  that  'ere  Messybird 
a  smack  in  the  starboard  light,"  and  Mr.  Mas- 
singbird went  backward  over  the  still  prostrate 
negro  with  his  right  eye  swelling  rapidly.  Wil- 
fred is  a  small  man,  but  he  can  hit  a  smart  blow, 
—  I  know  that,  for  he  once  hit  me  and  tried 
to  go  on  hitting  while  I  sat  on  him,  —  so  Mr. 
Massingbird,  unused  to  any  form  of  rough-and- 
tumble,  "saw  red."  At  that  moment  Timothy 
Hanks,  aroused  by  the  considerable  uproar, 
came  out  of  his  cabin  and  arrived  upon  the 
scene  in  a  hurry.  Taking  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance,  he  ordered  Wilfred  out.  In  the  face  of 
such  authority  as  the  second  mate,  the  little 
cook  had,  of  course,  to  withdraw;  but  he  with- 


TROUBLE  131 

drew  slowly,  remarking  loudly  upon  Mr.  Mas- 
singbird's  past,  present,  and  probable  future, 
upon  his  probable  origin  and  upon  his  personal 
appearance,  in  which  he  alluded  in  unmistake- 
able  terms  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  Massingbird's 
finger-nails  were  tinted  violet.  He  also  en- 
treated Mr.  Massingbird  to  rise  in  order  that 
he  might  have  the  great  pleasure  of  knocking 
him  down  again.  It  is  possible  that  Timothy 
Hanks,  that  grave  young  New  Englander,  con- 
sidered that  Mr.  Massingbird  deserved  all  he 
got,  for  he  did  not  silence  Wilfred,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  he  stood  listening  and  eyeing  Mr.  Mas- 
singbird with  a  sardonic  grin.  When,  however, 
the  little  cook  was  forced  to  pause  for  breath, 
Timothy  jerked  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder, 
and,  glancing  at  Wilfred,  said,  "Get,"  and  Wil- 
fred, partially  appeased,  and  mistaking  not  the 
official  order  from  a  superior,  departed. 

By  that  time  Mr.  Massingbird  had  regained 
his  feet  and  he  was  filled  to  the  brim  with  puz- 
zled rage.  Timothy  Hanks  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  the  carpenter,  and  quelling  Andrew's 
natural  desire  for  retaliation  with  a  sharp  order, 
he  examined  his  head,  and  finding  that  the  negro 
was  not  much  the  worse  for  the  crack  he  had 
received,  he  told  him  to  go  and  take  a  spell 
below. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Massingbird  had  seated  him- 


132  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

self,  with  one  hand  to  his  eye.  But  it  was  not 
the  pain  of  his  eye  that  was  absorbing  Mr.  Mas- 
singbird's  thoughts,  but  the  oddity  of  his  sur- 
roundings. Very  abruptly  he  had  discovered 
himself  in  an  unknown  world,  where,  apparently, 
you  must  not  hit  even  negroes  from  behind  with 
the  butt  of  a  revolver  —  even  when  they  spill 
a  bottle  of  ink  all  over  the  prospectus  of  a  rubber 
company  as  yet  not  actually  in  existence.  More- 
over, he,  the  director  of  many  companies,  had 
received  a  very  sharp  blow  in  the  eye  from  a  sea 
cook,  —  a  menial,  —  and  Timothy  Hanks,  the 
second  mate,  had  not  even  hit  the  said  sea  cook 
in  punishment.  That  a  white  man  should  take 
the  part  of  a  negro  against  him  bewildered  Mr. 
Massingbird.  Then  his  bewilderment  gave  place 
to  rage,  and,  brushing  past  Timothy  Hanks,  he 
went  in  search  of  Captain  Hawks  upon  the  bridge. 
I  was  on  the  bridge  at  the  time,  and  the  cap- 
tain and  Captain  Esterkay  were  playing  chess, 
a  game  at  which  Captain  Esterkay  was  a  mar- 
vel. Therefore  my  commander  was  beaten  nine 
times  out  of  ten.  But  it  so  happened  that  upon 
that  particular  occasion,  Captain  Hawks  was 
winning,  and  he  had  just  remarked,  "Mate 
Alexander,  I've  got  you  frazzled,"  when  Wil- 
fred arrived  to  report,  with  official  regret,  but 
with  a  grin  on  his  face,  that  he  had  "bashed  that 
'ere  Mister  Messy  bird  a  clip  in  the  peeper." 


TROUBLE  133 

"What  for?  Why?  When?"  demanded  Cap- 
tain Hawks  with  a  frown. 

Wilfred  explained  the  situation  and  the  cir- 
cumstances. 

"All  right,  that  will  do,"  replied  the  captain; 
and  the  little  man  finished  his  speech,  knuckled 
his  forehead,  kicked  out  his  leg  astern  in  true 
nautical  fashion,  wheeled  about,  winked  at  me, 
and  departed.  In  his  galley  I  could  hear  him 
singing:  — 

"  With  a  ladder  and  the  glarses 
You  could  see  the  'Ackney  Marshes  — 
If  it  wasn't  fer  the  'ouses  in  bertween.  .  .  ." 

"This  is  serious,"  said  Captain  Esterkay,  ris- 
ing. 

"It  is,"  agreed  Captain  Hawks.  "I  don't 
allow  passengers  to  knock  my  crew  about,  and 
I  am  delighted  that  Wilfred  punched  him." 

"That's  not  what  I  mean!"  gasped  Captain 
Esterkay.  "Say,  Matthew,  yo'  just  don't  know 
where  yo'  are!  Massingbird  is  — "  And  at  that 
moment  Mr.  Massingbird  arrived. 

In  the  short  distance  between  his  cabin  and 
the  bridge,  Mr.  Massingbird's  anger  had  risen 
to  an  extraordinary  pitch.  Such  maniacal  anger 
is  seldom  known  in  more  temperate  climes;  it 
is  a  product  of  fevers,  of  nerves  shattered  and 
abused,  and  of  the  lack  of  healthy  exercise.  Mr. 
Massingbird  arrived  two  steps  at  a  time,  and 


134  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

there  were  bubbles  upon  his  lips.  Now,  usually, 
a  man  in  a  rage  is  one  of  three  things.  Either  he 
is  dangerous,  or  impressive,  or  he  is  just  ridicu- 
lous according  to  the  kind  of  man  that  he  hap- 
pens to  be.  Mr.  Massingbird  was  dangerous. 
He  was  so  angry  that,  for  the  moment,  he  was 
not  sane,  and  he  had  an  automatic  pistol  in  his 
pocket. 

Captain  Hawks  at  once  began  to  apologise 
for  the  conduct  of  his  cook.  It  was  not,  I  must 
admit,  an  apology  very  heartily  given;  but  it 
was  an  official  apology,  nevertheless,  and  Mr. 
Massingbird  was  assured  that  the  cook  would 
be  logged  for  gross  insubordination. 

"But  I  must  ask  you,  Mr.  Massingbird," 
concluded  Captain  Hawks,  "to  report  any  inci- 
dent to  me  in  which  my  men  have  behaved  care- 
lessly, when  I  or  my  mate  will  handle  the  —  er 
—  situation.  In  other  words,  we  are  quite  cap- 
able of  bashing  a  man  if  such  should  be  neces- 
sary. Still,  it  was  no  business  of  my  cook's  to 
interfere,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  accept  my 
apology." 

Mr.  Massingbird  did  not  accept  the  apology; 
he  foamed  at  the  mouth  instead,  and  in  his  in- 
sane behaviour  I  saw,  for  the  first  time,  what 
we,  in  the  Martin  Connor  termed  "Amazonitis." 
In  other  words,  I  saw,  for  the  first  time,  the 
effect  of  a  prolonged  residence  in  the  Upper 


TROUBLE  135 

Amazon  country  upon  a  man  when  that  man 
gets  angry.  Mr.  Massingbird,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  went  temporarily  mad.  He  was 
not  at  all  ridiculous  in  his  madness,  as  a  man 
may  be  when  mad  with  rage  in  our  sane  and 
ordinary  world.  His  rage  was  startling  and  hor- 
rible, and  was  a  direct  and  lucid  explanation  of 
how  it  is  that  the  things  that  happen  among  the 
rubber  dealers  in  the  Upper  Amazon  come  to 
pass.  I  understand  that  in  some  parts  of  the 
Congo  you  will  also  find  "Amazonitis,"  and 
from  just  the  same  causes.  That  which  controls 
us,  and  which  prevents  us,  even  in  the  worst 
moods,  from  doing  certain  things,  becomes 
wilted  and  destroyed  in  such  a  place  and  climate. 
As  a  man  in  a  passion  may  slam  a  door,  a  man 
in  a  passion  in  the  Amazon  Valley  will  shoot 
another,  preferably  an  Indian. 

Mr.  Massingbird  whipped  out  a  revolver  and 
levelled  it  at  my  commander  with  a  trembling 
hand! 

I  happened  to  be  nearest  him,  and  as  he  pulled 
the  trigger  I  hit  him  squarely  beneath  the  ear. 
It  was  a  hard  blow,  but  the  time  was  not  one 
for  nice  discrimination,  and  Mr.  Massingbird 
dropped  in  a  heap. 

"The  sarpentile  insect!"  exclaimed  Captain 
Esterkay,  for  the  bullet  had  narrowly  missed 
him,  having  passed  between  him  and  Captain 


136  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

Hawks.  For  a  moment  we  stood  astonished, 
with  Mr.  Massingbird  lying  tragically  insignifi- 
cant like  a  bundle  of  white  clothes.  Then  the 
same  thought  occurred  to  us  all  three,  for  there 
was  something  odd  in  Mr.  Massingbird's  atti- 
tude, and  in  a  panic  we  leaned  over  the  pros- 
trate man. 

Mr.    Alonzo    Makepeace    Massingbird    was 
dead! 

The  deck  seemed  to  take  a  half -turn  under 
me  at  the  discovery,  then  righted  itself;  yet  I 
had  the  vivid  sensation  of  having  passed  through 
a  doorway  through  which  there  was  no  return. 
Mr.  Massingbird  was  dead  and  I  had  killed 
him.  He,  a  moment  before,  had  been  a  living 
thing  with  thoughts  and  aspirations,  temporarily 
clouded,  it  is  true,  with  what  amounted  to  homi- 
cidal mania;  yet  he  had  been  a  man,  a  separate 
entity,  a  creature  capable  of  independent  action 
good  or  bad.  And  now  he  was  a  pathetic,  small, 
crumpled  pile  of  white  clothing,  with  feet  turned 
inwards,  the  upturned  soles  exposing  a  hole  in 
his  left  shoe,  while  a  wrist-watch  still  ticked  on 
his  brown  left  wrist.  It  was  the  biggest  and  most 
horrible  shock  I  have  ever  had  in  my  life,  for 
there  was  a  sense  of  blind,  helpless  impotency, 
as  though  I  had  been  forced  into  a  cruelly  false 
position.  And  there  was,  amidst  all  the  tragedy, 
an  appalling  futility.  A  man  was  dead;  another 


TROUBLE  137 

man  had  killed  him  because  a  third  man  had 
spilled  a  bottle  of  ink! 

At  that  moment  Captain  Hawks  demon« 
strated  just  why  he  was  in  command  of  a  ship. 
He  stood  up,  put  a  whistle  in  his  mouth,  and 
brought  the  boatswain  and  two  men  aft. 

"Mr.  Massingbird  is  dead,"  said  he,  to  'Any 
Ketchold,  as  though  issuing  an  ordinary  sea 
order;  "help  me  to  carry  him  to  his  cabin  be- 
low." 

At  the  report  of  Mr.  Massingbird's  revolver 
shot,  an  expectant  shudder  had  gone  through 
the  ship.  They  had  heard  it  even  in  the  engine- 
room,  and  then  a  quietness  fell  upon  the  ship 
which  continued  its  uninterrupted  journey  as 
the  forest  continued,  as  the  river  continued, 
unchanged,  yet  suddenly  changed  for  me.  The 
man  at  the  wheel,  who  had  seen  it  all,  had  never 
moved  the  ship  one  foot  off  her  course,  and  his 
eyes  again  rested  upon  the  spot  last  pointed  out 
to  him  by  Captain  Esterkay,  beneath  which  he 
unswervingly  kept  our  iron  bows.  And  then 
the  thought  possessed  me  that,  considering  the 
state  that  Mr.  Massingbird  had  been  in,  there 
had  been  little  chance  of  his  hitting  any  one  and 
that  I  had  probably  killed  him  for  nothing. 
There  was,  of  course,  his  intention  to  kill.  But 
should  a  man  be  killed  under  such  conditions? 

Captain  Hawks  returned  to  the  bridge  and 


138  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

put  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder.  "You  did  it 
to  save  my  life,  Grummet,"  said  he. 

"I  did,  sir,"  I  replied,  "but  — " 

"No  'huts'  about  it,  Grummet.  If  he  had  n't 
been  as  rotten  as  an  egg  he  would  n't  have  died." 

"You  —  you  examined  him,  sir?" 

The  captain  nodded  grimly.  "Neck  snapped 
like  a  carrot." 

"He  shouldn't  have  been  so  brittle,  suh," 
remarked  Captain  Esterkay  in  his  suave  voice 
as  smooth  as  velvet.  "And  to  hit  the  animal  — " 

"Hush,  he's  dead!"  I  cried. 

"He's  no  more  respectable  dead  than  alive, 
suh,"  replied  the  Southerner  politely  and  with 
wisdom.  "To  hit  him  was  the  most  reasonable 
thing  to  do  under  the  circumstances." 

"I'll  go  down  to  my  cabin,  sir,"  said  I  to  the 
captain,  and  he  nodded  and  smiled. 

"Don't  you  get  jumpy  and  leery,  now,"  said 
he,  as  I  left  the  bridge. 

I  cannot  give  an  exact  description  of  the  hours 
that  followed  Massingbird's  death,  yet  certain 
more  or  less  trivial  impressions  will  always  re- 
main in  my  memory.  Chief  among  these  is  the 
picture  of  Massingbird's  cabin  door,  shut  and 
locked  by  the  captain  upon  the  mortal  remains 
of  that  unhappy  man.  While  I  yet  regarded 
that  varnished  teak  door  with  its  white  china 
doorknob,  Wilfred  appeared  silently  at  my  side. 


'YOU  DID  IT  TO  SAVE  MY  LIFE" 


TROUBLE  139 

"  'E  's  dead,  pore  bloke,"  remarked  the  little 
cook  in  a  matter-of-fact  voice,  as  though  refer- 
ring to  the  weather;  "  'e  did  n't  ought  to  'ave 
been  so  'asty  wiv  'is  gun,  'e  did  n't,  butt  end  or 
business  end.  But  'e'll  learn  better  by  'nd  by, 
like  most  of  us,  but  'e  'as  an  awful  long  way  to 
go !  And  if  I  could  do  anythink  for  'im  now,  I  'd 
do  it,  seein*  as  'ow  bygones  is  bygones.  But 
maybe  they'll  learn  'im  quicker  wheer  'e's  gorn 
to  than  wot  'e  learned  'ere.  Leastways,  that's 
'ow  it  seems  to  me.  So  don't  you  feel  bad  about 
it,  Grummet.  You  could  n't  'ave  done  less  than 
what  you  did  do,  hunder  the  circumstances." 

What  precisely  would  be  the  results  of  my 
action  I  did  not  know.  Captain  Hawks  wrote 
out  the  matter  in  the  log  and  Captain  Esterkay 
and  the  man  at  the  wheel  signed  it  as  being  a 
true  and  impartial  statement;  and  all  the  time 
the  ship's  business  continued,  as  life  continues, 
no  matter  what  happens. 

It  was  necessary,  however,  since  we  were  not 
at  sea,  to  communicate  with  some  form  of 
authority  ashore,  and  that  as  soon  as  possible. 
Massingbird  had  been  a  person  of  importance, 
and,  though  we  did  not  know  it  at  the  time,  had 
been  practically  a  spy  in  the  pay  of  the  Rio 
Maranon  Rubber  Company,  which  company  was 
none  too  friendlily  inclined  to  us  at  any  time. 
And,  to  put  it  definitely,  we  were  a  very  long 


140  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

way — much  farther  than  the  actual  distance 
in  miles  —  from  the  United  States  of  North 
America.  There  seemed  to  be  an  evil  genius  at 
work.  Looking  back  I  marvel  at  the  strange  per- 
versity of  the  fate  that  never  left  us  during  that 
portion  of  the  cruise,  when  everything  should 
have  been  in  our  favour,  but  which  left  us  as  sud- 
denly when,  according  to  the  "doctrine  of  prob- 
abilities," we  should  have  been  slaughtered  to  a 
man. 

The  Government  of  Brazil  is  divided  and  sub- 
divided and  divided  yet  again  into  departments, 
sections,  and  districts;  and  to  the  less-favoured 
districts  go  the  less-favoured  governors,  and  the 
worst  of  all,  districts  and  governors,  are  found 
in  the  Upper  Amazon  country.  Here,  in  the 
very  home  of  the  Rio  Maranon  Company,  any 
official  who  wishes  to  remain  alive  will  work 
hand  in  hand  with  the  company  that  practically 
owns  a  stretch  of  country  more  than  a  quarter 
the  size  of  the  United  States.  At  Para  there  is 
an  American  Consul,  but  at  Manaos  there  was 
—  when  we  were  there  —  an  American  Agent 
who  was  a  Brazilian;  a  fat  man  who  knew  just 
upon  which  side  his  bread  was  buttered;  and 
it  is  enough  to  say  that  he  knew  that  it  was 
not  buttered  on  the  American  side !  At  Manaos 
there  was  also  a  British  Agent;  an  Englishman 
with  a  chequered  career,  a  "hobnailed"  liver, 


TROUBLE  141 

and  a  very  great  knowledge  of  Brazilian  offi- 
cials in  the  Upper  Amazon,  and  a  still  greater 
knowledge  of  the  Rio  Maranon  Company.  He 
had,  that  British  Agent  with  the  liver  (so  we 
learned  later),  written  out  a  very  lucid  descrip- 
tion of  the  character  and  actions  of  the  Rio 
Maranon  Rubber  Company  and  had  mailed  a 
copy  to  the  British  Foreign  Office  in  London. 
His  account  had  concluded  with  the  gentle  hint 
that  if  his  death  should  occur,  no  matter  how 
reported,  the  circumstances  of  his  exit  should 
be  enquired  into  by  his  own  Government;  and 
his  own  Government  had  replied,  thanking  him 
for  the  document,  which  would  be  kept  for  pos- 
sible use  in  the  future  and  assuring  him  that 
all  details  concerning  his  death,  if  such  an  event 
were  to  take  place,  would  be  enquired  into  at 
once  by  the  commanding  officer  of  the  near- 
est British  man-o'-war.  The  British  Agent  had 
then  sent  a  copy  of  the  entire  correspondence, 
including  his  own  report,  to  the  Rio  Maranon 
Company.  The  net  result  of  this  action  had 
been  that  the  British  Agent  at  Manaos  went 
where  he  pleased,  said  what  he  pleased,  and  did 
what  he  pleased. 

To  the  Brazilian  American  Agent  at  Manaos, 
Captain  Hawks  made  his  report  concerning 
Massingbird's  death,  and  sought  advice.  The 
Brazilian  was  friendly  in  the  extreme  and  ar- 


142  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

ranged  to  receive  the  remains  of  Mr.  Massing- 
bird.  He  also  gave  my  commander  instructions 
as  to  where  to  go  and  whom  to  see;  and  it  was 
to  be  arranged  (with  much  waving  of  hands 
and  many  high-sounding  phrases)  that  Captain 
Hawks,  Captain  Esterkay,  the  man  at  the  wheel, 
and  myself  should  appear  before  some  form  of 
local  magistracy  the  following  day,  when  only  a 
formal  matter  of  enquiry  should  be  made  —  or 
so  said  the  Brazilian.  My  commander  came 
away  from  his  interview  very  much  worried  and 
puzzled.  It  was,  apparently,  the  most  usual 
thing  in  the  world  to  hit  a  man  under  the  ear 
and  kill  him.  The  matter  seemed  simple  enough, 
and  the  more  that  the  captain  thought  of  it  the 
more  he  became  convinced  that  it  was  altogether 
too  simple,  or  that  it  sounded  too  simple.  And 
then  he  had  an  inspiration.  He  went  to  see  the 
British  Agent  —  just  for  advice. 

Now,  an  American  and  an  Englishman  may 
be  two  very  different  men,  belonging  to  two 
very  different  nations  when  in  New  York  or  Lon- 
don, but  there  is  remarkably  little  difference 
between  them  when  they  meet  in  the  wilds  of  a 
country  foreign  to  them  both.  My  commander 
and  the  British  Agent  evidently  got  along  splen- 
didly together,  and  when  Captain  Hawks  came 
away  he  was  no  longer  puzzled  —  but  he  was  in 
a  hurry.  For  the  advice  he  had  received  was 


TROUBLE  143 

simple  and  to  the  point.  It  was:  "Send  the  gen- 
tleman, who  died  suddenly,  ashore  to  our  friend 
the  Brazilian,  just  as  he  said.  Give  me  a  written 
copy  of  your  account  in  the  log  book,  which  I 
will  transmit  to  your  American  Consul  at  Para 
(nice  fellah,  known  him  for  years),  and  get  out 
of  this  up-stream.  Don't  attend  any  court  here 
or  elsewhere  except  at  Para,  and  be  careful  who 
you  let  on  board  your  ship  from  now  on!" 

It  may  seem  strange  that  Captain  Hawks 
should  take  the  advice  of  the  representative  of 
a  foreign  country  in  place  of  the  advice  given 
him  by  the  representative  of  his  own;  but  the 
circumstances  were  peculiar,  as  were  the  rep- 
resentatives in  question.  Moreover,  my  com- 
mander and  the  British  Agent  spoke  the  same 
language  (or  nearly  so),  and,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  minor  details,  their  ideas,  their  thoughts, 
and  their  lives  revolved  upon  the  same  funda- 
mental principles.  In  short,  they  understood 
each  other.  From  the  British  Agent,  also,  Cap- 
tain Hawks  heard  the  first  definite  news  of 
Colonel  Ezra  Calvin. 

That  evening  we  were  proceeding  full  speed 
up-stream,  taking  advantage  of  a  bright  moon 
to  continue  under  weigh  throughout  the  night! 


CHAPTER  VH 

THE   COMPLETE  ANGLERS 

IN  one  instant  our  voyage,  which  had  been  an 
ordinary,  humdrum,  commercial  affair,  seemed 
to  have  changed  into  something  very  different, 
and  our  departure  from  Manaos  amounted  to 
little  more  than  flight. 

"I  guess  that  British  Agent  knew  what  he  was 
talking  about,  Grummet,"  said  Captain  Hawks 
to  me,  as  the  ship  made  her  way  over  a  river  of 
black  and  silver,  while  the  forest  stood  like  an 
ebony  silhouette  on  the  port  side.  "I  have  sent 
the  statement  to  the  American  Consul  at  Para, 
telling  him  when  we  shall  probably  be  back  in 
Para,  and  asking  him  to  make  the  necessary 
arrangements  for  me.  At  present  we  are  buried 
at  the  back  of  beyond,  and  we  are  about  as  far 
from  Rio  as  New  Orleans  is  from  San  Francisco, 
and  I  guess  that  any  politician  who  finds  a 
change  of  air  wholesome  for  his  political  health 
applies  for  a  job  somewhere  west  of  Obidos." 

"Just  so,  sir,"  I  answered;  "and  we'd  be  in  a 
nice  fix  if  they  really  got  a  hold  on  us  up  here." 

"That's  what  the  British  Agent  said.  He 
showed  me  conclusively  that  this  country  up 


THE   COMPLETE  ANGLERS       145 

here  don't  belong  to  Brazil,  but  to  the  Rio  Mara- 
non  Company.  And  the  very  least  that  they 
would  do,  if  they  had  the  chance,  would  be  to 
hang  the  ship  up  indefinitely  on  some  techni- 
cality by  putting  you  or  me  or  both  of  us  in  jail; 
and  I  don't  hanker  any  after  an  up-country 
jail  in  these  parts.  But  as  long  as  we  stay  by  the 
ship  I  don't  see  what  they  can  do,  for  it  is  not 
Brazil  we  are  dealing  with,  but  this  pesky  Rub- 
ber Trust." 

"I  understand  that  the  Rio  Maranon  people 
have  a  private  army  of  their  own,"  I  began. 

"They  have,"  answered  my  commander 
grimly;  "some  few  hundred  men  and  one  or  two 
shallow-draught  steamboats  with  a  gun  or  two. 
But  are  we  such  chickens?" 

"No,  sir;  but  if  it  comes  to  an  out-and-out 
scrap  with  them,  what  will  Brazil  say?" 

"Brazil  will  say"  — joined  hi  Captain  Ester- 
kay  amiably,  —  "will  say  to  the  Rio  Maranon 
Company:  *I  wisht  yo'  would  manage  yo'  little 
troubles  quieter.  Yo'  will  mix  us  up  with  the 
United  States  if  yo'  ain't  careful!'  But  that  is 
all  they  will  say,  and  the  Rio  Maranon  Com- 
pany will  take  the  hint  and  try  and  kill  us 
quietly  in  the  dark.  But  this  is  a  big  country. 
There  are  many  miles  of  it  that  neither  Brazil 
nor  the  Rio  Maranon  know  anything  about.  We 
are  a  needle  in  a  haystack,  Matthew,  though 


146  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

I  expect  that  there  will  be  trouble  somewhere 
for  some  one  before  long." 

"What  did  you  hear  of  Colonel  Calvin,  sir?" 
I  asked;  and  Captain  Hawks  laughed. 

"He's  in  trouble  too!"  he  answered.  "The 
Rio  Maranon  found  him  prospecting  for  rubber 
and  told  him  to  get  off  the  earth.  He's  still  on 
the  earth,  and  he  replied  by  hammering  one  of 
the  Rio  Maranon  officials  with  a  tin  dipper,  and 
he  has  had  to  take  to  the  woods!"  And  the  cap- 
tain flung  out  an  expressive  arm  toward  the 
forest ! 

"What  d'  yo'  mean,  Matthew?"  asked  Cap- 
tain Esterkay  quickly. 

"What  I  say,"  replied  my  commander.  "Cal- 
vin arrived  at  Para  about  eighteen  months 
ago,  hired  a  wood-burning  steamer  and  started 
up-stream.  He  did  n't  ask  permission,  —  why 
should  he?  I  guess  this  river  's  big  enough  for 
every  one,  ain't  it?  He  had  his  first  tilt  with  the 
Rio  Maranon  at  Serpa.  They  wanted  to  know 
all  about  him,  and  he,  an  American  citizen, 
did  n't  see  any  necessity  to  publish  an  auto- 
biography and  said  so;  whereupon  I  gathered 
that  there  was  trouble,  for  that  is  where  he 
rubbed  the  fear  of  death  into  the  Rio  Maranon 
official  with  the  tin  dipper.  He  showed  up  next 
at  Manaos,  flapping  the  Stars  and  Stripes  in 
the  face  of  every  one,  and  there  ran  across  our 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       147 

British  Agent,  who,  I  guess,  was  mighty  glad  to 
see  a  white  man  between  steamer  times,  for  they 
seem  to  have  been  friends  on  sight.  That  rather 
put  a  check  on  the  Rio  Maranon  Company, 
for  the  British  Agent  swore  blind  that  Calvin 
was  a  friend  of  his  childhood,  that  they  had 
stolen  apples  together,  and  that  any  inconven- 
ience which  his  life-long  friend  suffered  was 
therefore  a  slight  to  him,  —  the  British  Agent, 
who  had  never  seen  Calvin  before  in  his  life,  — 
and  as  there  was  a  British  Dreadnought  coming 
up-stream  fishing  for  turtles'  eggs,  they  had 
better  turn  kind.  Well,  that  saw  Calvin  out  of 
Manaos  all  right,  but  a  day's  run  up  the  river 
saw  him  in  No-Man's-Land,  or  rather,  in  the 
Rio  Maranon  Company's  land,  and  a  launch 
overtook  him  and  demanded  his  papers.  They 
told  him  pretty  plain  (so  the  British  Agent 
thought)  that  he  was  a  poacher  poaching  rub- 
ber, and  that  he'd  better  go  home.  The  crew  of 
the  river  boat  which  Calvin  had  hired  were  n't 
going  to  put  up  a  scrap  naturally;  so  it  was  my 
partner  against  every  one,  and  I  guess  that  he 
had  a  lively  time.  He  had  no  intention  of  being 
arrested,  knowing  what  that  would  mean,  so  he 
took  the  wheel  of  his  river  boat  and  ran  the  Rio 
Maranon  launch  under  and  laughed  at  'em  as 
they  scrambled  ashore." 
"Good  man!  "said  I. 


148  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"He  is  a  good  man,'*  continued  the  captain, 
"but  he's  not  a  wise  one.  He  was  now  a  recog- 
nised belligerent,  and  the  crew  of  his  river  boat 
mutinied.  They  said  —  and  I  see  their  point 
—  that  the  trouble  was  none  of  their  making, 
and  that,  please,  they  would  like  to  get  back  to 
Para.  Well,  Calvin  quelled  their  desires,  and 
however  much  they  may  have  been  scared  of  the 
Rio  Maranon  Company,  Calvin  so  fixed  it  that 
they  were  still  more  scared  of  him.  But  he 
seems  to  have  got  on  well  with  the  river  Indians, 
same  as  we  have  done;  for  the  Indians  smuggled 
letters  for  him  through  to  our  British  friend 
at  Manaos,  who  said,  by  the  by,  that  Calvin's 
letters  were  most  entertaining.  In  this  way 
Calvin  sent  his  letters  to  me  at  home,  the  Brit- 
ish Agent  giving  them  privately  to  the  skipper 
of  one  of  the  Liverpool  boats  to  post  in  Para. 
In  the  last  of  these  he  said  that  he  was  liable  to 
find  himself  in  serious  trouble.  Serious  trouble! 
Why,  he  was  then,  at  the  time  of  writing,  prac- 
tically an  outlaw,  with  the  crew  of  his  river  boat 
ready  to  murder  him  if  they  got  a  chance. 
Meanwhile,  he  was  getting  to  know  a  whole 
heap  about  the  country,  and  had  discovered, 
'way,  'way  off,  a  regular  forest  of  the  finest  kind 
of  rubber,  situated  in  a  patch  of  country  claimed 
by  Peru,  by  Colombia,  by  Ecuador,  by  Brazil, 
and  by  the  Rio  Maranon  Company.  He  also 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       149 

discovered  a  river  about  the  size  of  the  Ohio  at 
Cincinnati  that  is  n't  on  the  map." 

"He  seems  to  have  been  busy,"  breathed 
Captain  Esterkay. 

"He  has  been,"  replied  Captain  Hawks;  "he 
usually  is  busy,  but  by  this  time  his  exploits  had 
sifted  down-stream  to  the  local  headquarters 
of  the  Rio  Maranon  Company  which  now  made 
a  real  effort  to  bottle  him.  They  sent  out  a  river 
steamer  with  forty  men,  so  our  friend  hi  Manaos 
told  me,  with  instructions  to  bring  Calvin  back 
alive  or  dead;  but  preferably  dead,  for  there 
was  a  rumour  floating  round  that  he  was  inciting 
the  Indians  to  revolt  against  the  tyranny  of 
the  rubber  dealers.  Well,  they  found  him,  'way 
beyond  the  back  of  everything,  and  there  was 
no  doubt  that  this  time  the  Rio  Maranon  Com- 
pany meant  business.  So  he  quietly  slipped 
ashore  with  some  dunnage,  and  he  has  been  lost 
in  the  jungle  for  six  months ! " 

Captain  Esterkay  whistled  long  and  emphati- 
cally. 

"Then  he  is  dead,  Matthew,"  he  pronounced 
softly;  "requiescat  in  pace!" 

"No  more  dead  than  you  are,"  replied  Cap- 
tain Hawks.  :<You  don't  know  Ezra  Calvin; 
he  comes  from  New  England." 

"I  know  the  up-river  country,  though,"  said 
Captain  Esterkay  with  the  quiet  assurance 


150  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

which  knowledge  gives;  "that  is  where  the  Blow- 
gun  Indians  are,  and  no  one,  not  even  the  Rio 
Maranon,  can  do  anything  against  them  and 
their  blowguns.  The  blowgun,  Matthew,  makes 
a  Winchester  rifle  look  foolish;  and  in  the  hands 
of  an  expert  it  is  the  most  deadly  weapon  in  the 
world  at  a  short  range.  The  Indians  that  use  it 
are  stark  naked  heathen  that  just  laugh  at  fire- 
arms, and  no  wonder!" 

"Well,  that's  where  Calvin  is,  and,  when  I 
have  discharged  my  cargo  at  the  Rio  Maloca  set- 
tlement, that  is  where  I  am  going  to  find  him." 

Work  is  a  great  soother  of  troubled  times.  In 
three  days  the  steady  influence  of  discipline  had 
lessened  my  constant  and  all-pervading  memory 
of  Massingbird's  death,  though  I  would  come 
back  to  the  recollection  with  a  horrible  shock. 
But  a  ship  demands  of  her  mate  continual  and 
active  examination;  one  can  be  continually 
busy,  and  do  no  more  than  is  necessary. 

Whatever  effect  our  sudden  departure  from 
Manaos  may  have  had  in  that  place,  we  trav- 
elled too  far  and  too  quickly  for  the  news  to 
overtake  us  in  any  official  form.  We  were,  in- 
deed, getting  into  the  heart  of  the  wilds,  and 
beyond  a  very  occasional  Indian  canoe  we  saw 
no  sign  of  man  for  days.  But  even  here  the 
Indian  form  of  wireless  telegraphy  had  preceded 
us,  and  we  had  as  much  fresh  food  as  we  wished. 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       151 

Our  patient,  whose  leg  we  had  amputated, 
had  been  removed  to  the  forecastle,  and  his 
chilled-steel  constitution  was  manifesting  itself 
in  the  healthy  way  in  which  he  healed.  His 
Indian  name  was  unpronounceable,  but  it 
sounded  something  like  "Maryjane,"  so  Mary- 
jane  he  became,  thenceforth  and  always.  He 
was  carried  out  daily  and  he  sat  in  the  shade 
smoking  ship's  tobacco  and  thus  gradually  as- 
sumed his  place  in  our  lives,  as  Stadger  had  done, 
and  we  should  have  missed  him  had  he  not 
been  there.  For  he  was  what  one  might  call  an 
effective  person  in  his  way;  he  had  character, 
and  he  made  miraculous  carvings  for  us  all  and 
wept  tears  of  pure  emotion  to  the  music  of  the 
forecastle  accordion.  Thus  Maryjane  became  a 
fixture. 

The  river  was  now  distinctly  narrower,  or 
rather,  its  average  was  so;  and  by  the  narrow- 
ing of  the  river  we  came  into  more  intimate 
touch  with  the  forest.  Moreover,  the  land,  for 
the  most  part,  was  lying  at  a  slightly  higher 
level  and  there  was  frequently  quite  a  high  bank. 
The  river  had  become  a  river  as  we  know  it,  and 
though  the  forest  remained  as  thick  as  ever  it 
was  not  such  a  primeval  swamp.  The  wealth 
of  detail  confused  the  eye,  the  shapes  and  shades 
of  green  distracted  the  attention,  yet  the  coun- 
try was  assuming  a  more  reasonable,  a  more 


152  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

realisable  form.  Once  Captain  Esterkay  got 
us  aground,  and  I  spent  a  happy  morning  han- 
dling kedges  and  warps;  I  say  "happy,"  for  my 
efforts  were  successful,  and  any  sailor  will  recog- 
nise what  I  mean  when  I  speak  of  the  strange 
exhilaration  in  dealing  with  powerful  forces  and 
immense  weights. 

The  rain  squalls  in  this  upper  country  were 
excessively  violent.  The  pearl-grey  water  came 
sluicing  down  in  such  tremendous  volumes  as 
to  threaten  the  awnings  that  covered  the  ship. 
The  rainfall  was  accompanied  by  a  roaring  sound 
like  that  heard  when  standing  under  an  iron 
railroad  bridge  when  a  train  passes  overhead. 
But,  for  the  most  part,  during  the  daytime 
there  was  a  silence  like  deafness,  broken  only 
by  the  welcome  noises  of  the  ship. 

There  was  a  marked  increase  in  the  number  of 
alligators,  and  the  forest  sounds  at  night  were 
louder  and  more  insistent.  Strips  of  sandy  beach 
would  sometimes  line  the  bank,  and  upon  these 
were  invariably  to  be  seen  one  or  more  alliga- 
tors —  or  crocodiles,  we  did  not  know  which  — 
looking  for  all  the  world  like  tree-trunks.  Wil- 
fred was  devising  an  angling  apparatus  for 
catching  one  of  these  saurian  monstrosities; 
and  he  gave  forth  the  astonishing  information 
that  an  alligator's  eye-teeth,  when  ground  to 
powder  and  applied  as  a  hot  compress,  were 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       153 

an  infallible  cure  for  rheumatism;  whereat  Mr. 
McLushley  affirmed  that  an  alligator's  eye- 
teeth,  when  not  ground  to  powder  but  in  full 
working  order,  were  an  infallible  cure  for  all  the 
ills  that  man  is  heir  to.  In  speaking  of  these 
creatures  do  not  think  that  I  mean  anything 
like  the  caymans  of  Florida.  The  Amazon  edi- 
tion is  in  strict  proportion  with  the  size  and 
ferocity  of  the  country,  and  once  hooked  would 
need  a  steam  winch  and  a  wire  warp  to  shift 
him.  They  were  the  most  repulsive-looking 
objects,  and  they  existed  in  such  swarms  as  to 
make  the  river  bank  a  place  of  great  danger. 
The  Indians,  with  whom  we  were  in  frequent  con- 
tact, went  in  continual  dread  of  the  monsters, 
which,  according  to  them,  knew  no  fear.  It  was 
their  fearless  reputation,  I  think,  that  inspired 
Wilfred  with  his  idea.  For  it  was  not  the  lit- 
tle cook's  intention  to  kill  an  alligator;  he  pro- 
posed to  capture  one  alive  and  take  it  home  with 
us  in  a  cage  on  deck.  The  scheme  was  ambitious. 

"D'you  want  one  as  a  sort  of  pet,  d'you 
mean?"  enquired  Captain  Hawks  with  a  grin. 

The  captain  and  Wilfred  and  myself  hap- 
pened to  be  alone  on  the  bridge,  so  we  dropped 
back  to  the  familiar  attitude  toward  one  another 
born  of  many  long  years  of  friendship. 

"Well,  I  don't  s'pose  I'll  be  able  to  lead  'im 
round  wiv  a  string  like  a  Fido  dorg,"  said  Wil- 


154  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

fred,  "but  we  could  fix  'im  up  in  a  cage  on  the 
harfter  main-deck  —  oncet  we'd  got  'im." 

"And  how  d'  you  mean  to  get  him?"  asked 
Captain  Hawks,  —  "put  salt  on  his  tail  or  just 
whistle?" 

"You  let  me  'ave  the  use  of  a  few  men,  a  boat, 
one  of  them  theer  arfter  shore-lines  and  a  winch 
and  Hi  will  get  'im  aboard,"  answered  Wilfred, 
with  emphasis. 

"All  right,  I  will,"  replied  the  captain,  "just 
to  see  how  you  will  do  it ! "  And  he  grinned  down 
at  the  little  Englishman  with  the  affection  of 
long  intimacy. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  my  commander's  reasons 
for  giving  his  permission  were  threefold.  He 
wanted  to  oblige  Wilfred,  for  whom  he  enter- 
tained a  sincere  respect;  he  wanted,  out  of  curi- 
osity, to  see  how  Wilfred  would  manage  it;  and 
none  knew  better  than  he  the  necessity  for  some 
recreation  among  a  community  of  hard-working 
men  penned  up  in  a  ship  in  a  murderous  climate. 

So  a  cage  capable  of  retaining  a  mad  elephant 
was  forthwith  constructed  upon  the  after  main- 
deck  by  the  carpenter  and  'Arry  Ketchold,  Wil- 
fred giving  shrill  advice.  Then  a  running  noose 
was  fashioned  in  a  stout  manila  line  which,  in 
turn,  was  bent  to  a  short  strip  composed  of  a 
hundred  strands  of  the  best  hemp  cord,  not 
twisted  together,  but  placed  in  juxtaposition, 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       155 

and  bound  at  intervals  of  a  few  feet.  These  thin 
lines  would  thus  —  so  it  was  thought  —  slip 
between  the  alligator's  teeth  when  he  tried  to 
bite  the  line.  The  thin  lines  in  turn  were  bent 
to  a  ring  to  which  was  made  fast  the  sister-hooks 
at  the  end  of  a  long  wire  cable  running  to  one 
of  the  cargo  derricks.  The  appliance  was  sailor- 
like  and  efficient  and  would  have  lifted  fifty 
alligators  once  it  was  attached  to  them. 

The  affair  was  strictly  Wilfred's.  He  was  in 
command  of  the  operation,  and  the  entire  ship 
trembled  with  excited  expectation.  There  was 
no  difficulty  hi  finding  an  alligator;  the  difficulty 
was,  once  we  started,  to  prevent  the  alligator 
finding  us.  Within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  ship 
at  anchor  was  a  sandbank  upon  which  four  large 
alligators  lay  prone  and  half  regarding  us  with 
the  unfearing  insolence  of  savage  wild  animals 
that  have  only  regarded  the  infrequent  men 
they  have  encountered  as  possible  food  and 
not  as  worthy  enemies;  for  the  Indians  had 
no  weapons  capable  of  really  dealing  with  such 
creatures.  This,  of  course,  does  not  refer  to  the 
Blowgun  Indians;  but  we  were  many  miles  from 
the  Blowgun  Indians'  country. 

A  boat  put  off  quietly  from  the  ship  contain- 
ing Wilfred  in  the  bows,  in  command,  and  with 
his  lariat  paid  out  astern  alongside  the  boat  and 
attached  by  the  sister-hooks  to  the  wire,  the 


156  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

weight  and  pull  of  the  latter  being  taken  with- 
out effort  by  'Arry  Ketchold.  Timothy  Hanks 
steered,  while  I  stood  by  Wilfred's  side  with  a 
rule  for  defensive  purposes  in  case  anything 
miscarried.  Softly  and  slowly  we  drifted  down 
to  the  alligators,  Wilfred  signing  his  commands 
to  the  gravely  smiling  Timothy  Hanks.  He 
picked  out  one  that  was  reposing,  or  rather  just 
awakening,  some  forty  yards  from  the  others, 
and  which  was  lying  at  an  angle,  thus  allowing 
us  to  approach  and  avoid  his  tail  as  much  as 
possible.  Hardly  a  man  in  the  boat  drew  breath, 
and  the  four  men  at  the  oars  were  ready  to  go 
full  astern  with  all  the  strength  of  eight  muscu- 
lar arms.  We  came  so  silently  and  so  impercep- 
tibly that  the  alligator  either  did  not  see,  or  did 
not  consider  us  worthy  of  his  attention;  for  it 
must  be  recollected  that  in  that  game-swarming 
country  man  is  at  a  discount.  Suddenly,  how- 
ever, the  alligator  realised  how  close  we  were, 
and  the  large  ship's  boat  may  have  appeared 
suddenly  formidable  to  him  then,  for  he  whisked 
round  amid  a  great  upheaval  of  sand  and  water 
and  presented  an  open  mouth  that  was  a  shock 
to  behold.  Then  he  came  for  us. 

"Full  astern  and  'ard  a-port!"  yelled  Wilfred, 
and  the  boat  slid  round.  "  'Old  'er!"  he  added 
in  a  screech  of  delighted  excitement. 

The  alligator  was  now  within  three  feet  of  our 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       157 

bows,  but  our  sudden  change  of  position  dis- 
concerted him,  and  he  snapped  together  his 
gigantic  jaws  with  a  crack  like  the  shutting 
of  steel  doors.  It  was  at  that  precise  moment 
that  Wilfred  positively  drew  —  not  threw  —  the 
noose  over  the  beast's  head,  and  he  would 
have  toppled  over  had  I  not  dropped  my  rifle 
and  snatched  him  back  by  the  slack  of  his 
patched  pants.  As  he  fell  back  into  the  boat  he 
clapped  the  whistle  to  his  mouth  and  blew, 
while  I  yelled  to  our  men  to  go  astern  for  all  our 
lives. 

The  boat  shot  backwards,  and  the  waiting 
donkeyman  on  board  the  ship  had  started  his 
winch  the  very  second  the  whistle  sounded,  and 
the  line  came  tight  round  the  alligator's  neck 
and  just  abaft  the  eight  great  lumps  he  carries 
there  for  some  mysterious  purpose  of  his  own. 

He  was  both  an  astonished  and  a  very  angry 
alligator,  and  to  put  it  precisely,  we  had  to  get 
out  of  the  way.  If  you  have  ever  seen  a  really 
large  alligator  really  angry  and  thoroughly  sur- 
prised, you  will  appreciate  what  I  say  when  I 
explain  that  we  literally  fled  to  the  ship  while 
the  most  extraordinary  commotion  commenced 
in  the  water.  If  you  can  imagine  a  torpedo  mi- 
raculously imbued  with  intelligence  and  filled 
with  appalled  and  devastating  rage,  you  will 
imagine  a  little  of  what  we  saw.  The  river  A  ma- 


158  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

zon  was  not  half  big  enough  for  that  alligator. 
He  went  for  the  sandbank  and  the  wire  brought 
him  up  with  what  must  have  been  a  nasty  jar, 
and  the  winch  drawing  him  backwards  raised 
him  high  on  his  after  legs  for  a  moment.  Then 
he  cast  himself  sideways,  like  a  falling  tree,  and 
quite  illogically  he  went  for  his  friends.  But 
again  the  wire  brought  him  up  sharp,  and  the 
slack  being  now  gathered  in,  he  was  drawn  with 
a  sudden  jerk  off  the  sandbank  and  into  the 
river  toward  the  ship.  He  darted  up-stream, 
then  down-stream,  and  in  a  sudden  mania  of 
rage  fell  to  rolling  round  and  round  snapping 
powerfully  at  the  rope.  But  he  could  get  no  hold 
on  the  hundred  strands  of  twine,  and  whatever 
he  did  the  inexorable  winch  drew  him  swiftly 
to  the  ship. 

Meanwhile  the  evening  air  was  filled  with  the 
yells,  shouts,  and  whistles  of  every  man  present, 
punctuated  by  the  heavy  reports  of  the  alliga- 
tor's tail  hitting  the  water.  Provided  that  the 
noose  held  and  did  not  slip,  he  was  ours,  or 
rather  Wilfred's,  and  Wilfred  whooped  and 
coughed,  and  cackled  and  crowed  and  danced 
in  the  bows  of  our  boat.  As  the  inevitable  wire 
drew  the  alligator,  rolling  and  plunging  and 
lashing,  to  the  ship,  our  excitement  grew  posi- 
tively painful.  Then,  for  an  indescribable  space 
of  time,  the  alligator  was  in  the  air,  rising  sky- 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       159 

wards,  and  doubling  and  twisting  in  a  manner 
that  made  him  fearful  to  behold.  The  derrick 
came  clanking  round  with  the  same  blind  pre- 
cision that  would  have  marked  its  exact  action 
had  the  alligator  been  a  grand  piano  or  half  a 
ton  of  hay;  and  with  the  skilled  neatness  of  long 
practice  the  donkeyman  deposited  that  raging 
alligator  in  the  roofless  cage  which  had  been 
prepared  for  its  reception. 

We,  in  the  boat,  went  aboard  like  monkeys, 
and  every  man  hi  the  ship  crowded  round  the 
cage,  while  a  man  poised  above  unshackled 
the  sister-hooks  and  endeavoured  to  disengage 
the  noose  from  the  reptile  below  him.  Our  cap- 
tive had  not  too  much  room,  but  we  had  given 
him  as  much  space  as  we  could  afford,  and  he 
filled  that  space  completely  and  almost  simul- 
taneously in  mad  rushes  to  get  at  us,  snapping 
his  terrific  jaws  and  pounding  the  iron  deck  with 
his  prodigious  after  parts  in  great  ringing  thuds. 
He  did  not  know  what  fear  was,  that  alligator; 
and  the  trying  experience  he  had  just  gone 
through  and  the  surrounding  number  of  his  ene- 
mies in  no  way  dismayed  him. 

Wilfred  went  dancing  round,  butting  into  all 
indiscriminately,  extolling  the  virtues  and  beau- 
ties of  his  pet  in  the  high  shrill  whoops  of  great 
exhilaration.  He  flung  a  large  lump  of  pork  into 
the  cage,  but  the  alligator  was  not  looking  for 


160  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

food;  his  spirit  and  his  body  demanded  red 
revenge;  and  his  implacable,  unconquerable  fe- 
rocity gained,  not  only  our  respect,  but  almost 
our  affection.  All  through  the  night  the  alligator 
snapped  his  jaws  and  refused  even  to  look  at 
food  that  was  offered  him.  On  one  side  of  the 
cage  was  a  wooden  trough  just  deep  enough  for 
him  to  lie  in,  while  a  short  strip  of  hose  from 
a  deck  hydrant  enabled  Wilfred  to  keep  his  pet 
in  a  healthy  state  of  dampness.  The  reptile  was, 
of  course,  a  great  source  of  interest  to  us  all, 
and  its  refusal  to  take  food  at  first  caused  much 
anxiety  throughout  the  ship,  and  a  genuine  sigh 
of  relief  went  up  when  Wilfred  announced,  two 
days  later:  "Percy  is  able  to  sit  up  and  take  a 
little  nourishment.  'E's  eat  sixty-two  pounds 
of  fresh  manatee!" 

"We  are  coming  on,"  said  Captain  Hawks 
to  me.  "We  gathered  in  a  dog  at  Para,  then 
an  Indian  minus  one  leg,  and  now  a  very  well- 
equipped  alligator  —  or  crocodile;  don't  know 
which.  We  should  be  a  full  ship's  company  by 
the  end  of  the  cruise  at  this  rate." 

Otherwise  our  journey  continued  as  before, 
only  with  the  difference  that  we  were,  as  Cap- 
tain Esterkay  pointed  out,  minus  a  Massingbird 
and  plus  an  alligator.  But  by  now  the  river  was 
noticeably  smaller,  while  there  had  come  a  sub- 
tle difference  hi  the  forest  that  is  hard  to  define. 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       161 

There  was  the  same  interwoven  jam  of  strenu- 
ous growth,  but  there  were  occasional  stretches 
of  forest  that  was  forest  as  we  know  it  in  more 
civilised  lands;  great  tall  trees  standing  straight 
from  solid  earth,  and  not  amid  a  matted  tangle 
of  half-aquatic  growth.  One  day  Captain  Es- 
terkay  "shot  the  sun."  This,  in  itself,  seemed 
remarkable,  and  impressed  me  with  the  magni- 
tude of  our  surroundings,  especially  as  he  found 
the  best  map  procurable  in  the  United  States 
eleven  miles  in  error! 

A  day  later  there  was  much  excitement,  for 
we  left  the  mam  stream  and  turned  into  a  south- 
ern tributary,  and  the  navigation  of  the  ship 
now  became  a  matter  of  considerable  care. 
Heretofore  there  had  been  so  much  river  and 
so  little  ship  that  we  had  been  able  to  take  rather 
"easy"  courses  from  far  distant  points,  but 
we  must  now  keep  to  the  centre  of  the  stream 
in  all  its  windings,  and  the  stream  resembled  a 
roadway  through  the  forest  that  now  seemed  to 
close  in  on  us  as  a  tunnel  closes  upon  a  train. 
A  marked  change  also  came  in  the  country,  for 
occasionally,  above  the  trees,  we  beheld  rolling 
hills.  At  night  we  seemed  to  be  actually  hi  the 
forest,  which  echoed  continually  with  strange 
cries  of  abundant  life.  Tributaries  of  the  tribu- 
tary we  were  in  branched  off  at  infrequent  inter- 
vals, and  few  of  these  were  marked  upon  the  map. 


162  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

Occasional  bouts  of  fever  visited  us  all,  and 
one  day,  when  Captain  Hawks  was  groaning 
and  shivering  in  his  bunk,  a  turn  in  the  river 
revealed  a  shallow  -  draught  steamer  coming 
down-stream  and  flying  the  flag  of  the  Rio 
Maloca  Rubber  Company.  We  instantly  greeted 
each  other  with  prolonged  whistles,  and  as  I 
was  in  temporary  command  of  the  ship,  I  moved 
as  much  to  one  side  as  Captain  Esterkay  would 
let  me  and  rang  off  the  engines,  sending  Timothy 
Hanks  onto  the  forecastle-head  to  be  ready  to 
let  go  the  anchor;  for  of  all  things  I  hate  it  is 
the  navigation  of  rivers  in  a  seagoing  ship. 

"This  will  be  Eichholz,"  said  Captain  Ester- 
kay, with  the  glasses  to  his  eyes;  and  Eichholz 
it  was. 

Our  interest  was  as  great  as  though  we  had 
met  a  ship  at  sea  upon  a  long  and  lonely  voy- 
age, and  every  man  who  could  do  so  crowded 
the  deck.  The  broad-beamed,  waddling  steamer, 
spreading  behind  her  a  cloud  of  blue  wood  smoke, 
came  sidling  athwart  the  current.  She  lay  upon 
the  water  like  a  dish,  and  as  she  was  now  ob- 
viously aiming  for  our  side  I  regarded  her  ma- 
noeuvres with  growing  alarm.  I  rang  down  the 
telegraph  to  "Stand  by,"  and  comforted  myself 
with  the  knowledge  of  Mr.  McLushley's  always 
immediate  responses.  Along  came  that  river 
boat  full  speed,  swinging  merrily  from  side  to 


THE   COMPLETE  ANGLERS       163 

side  as  though  undecided  just  where  to  ram  us, 
while  emphatic  criticisms  were  flung  at  her  from 
our  decks. 

"Fenders  over  the  side!"  I  yelled,  and  rang 
on,  "Slow  astern." 

The  crew  jumped,  and  not  only  fenders  went 
over  the  side,  but  a  six-inch  manila  —  a  sudden 
and  excellent  inspiration  of  Timothy  Hanks's. 
And  as  the  men  jumped,  they  addressed  the 
river  boat  in  forceful  United  States,  asking  her 
to  "Come  right  inside  and  not  to  be  bashful"; 
to  "Keep  off  the  grass";  to  "Ask  mother  to 
come  and  help";  and  to  "Part  her  hair  in  the 
middle." 

"That'll  do,"  said  I;  "shut  your  faces." 

On  the  upper  deck  of  the  river  steamer,  con- 
gregated round  a  shed-like  wheel-house  and  be- 
neath a  dirty,  slack-stretched  awning,  lounged 
half  a  dozen  alleged  white  men  with  the  weari- 
ness and  extraordinary  languor  marking  their 
postures  which  seemed  habitual  with  all  men 
we  had  seen  in  the  Amazon  country.  What 
these  very  dilapidated  specimens  thought  of  our 
vociferating,  almost  naked,  truculently  cheer- 
ful crew,  swarming  about  us  like  apes,  I  do  not 
know. 

The  visitor  came  alongside  with  a  creaking, 
thumping  jar  that  made  the  men  by  the  wheel- 
house  stagger,  and  a  raucous  cackle  of  derisive 


164  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

merriment  came  from  where  Wilfred  observed 
events  from  abaft  the  galley. 

"Wheer  did  you  get  that  'at?"  demanded  the 
little  man  of  a  stooping  individual  on  the  river 
boat  who  wore  a  home-made  arrangement  on  his 
head  that  was  certainly  remarkable. 

"Go  astern,  sir!"  I  shouted  to  the  man  in  the 
wheel-house,  as  his  craft  went  sliding  and  thump- 
ing along  our  side  like  a  travelling  battering- 
ram;  "go  astern  hard!  If  you  have  no  paint, 
we  have!  Mr.  Hanks!  Heave  that  deaf,  blind, 
paralytic  idiot  a  line,  and  some  of  you  there  get 
over  and  make  it  fast.  Jump ! " 

Six  of  our  swarthy  crew  dropped  down  into 
the  river  boat  with  the  end  of  a  line,  to  the 
considerable  consternation  of  the  "niggers"  and 
Indians  and  goodness-knows-whats  upon  her 
upper  deck  who  were  swept  aside  in  the  frenzied 
efforts  which  our  men  made  to  find  something 
to  which  they  could  make  fast. 

"She  ain't  got  no  bollards,  sir!"  howled  'Arry 
Ketchold,  and  to  try  and  stop  the  murderous 
bumping,  he  clutched  the  manila  line  in  one 
terrific  fist  and  hooked  the  other  arm  through 
a  window  of  the  wheel-house.  The  window  frame 
and  part  of  the  wheel-house  came  away  with  a 
rending  of  wood  and  a  tinkling  of  glass,  while 
Wilfred  cheered  gleefully  at  the  wreckage. 

"Nothink  like  destruction!"  he  yelled;   "I 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       165 

loves  ter  see  it !  Parse  the  line  round  'er  skipper's 
perishin'  neck,  'Any,  'im  with  the  'at!  Oh,  I 
'ave  n't  larfed  so  much  since  father  died!" 

At  length  our  men  found  an  anchorage  by 
circumnavigating  the  deckhouse;  and  thus,  by 
tying  up  the  river  boat  as  though  she  had  been 
a  parcel,  they  brought  her  to  rest. 

There  was  one  man  amid  those  standing  round 
beneath  the  awning  who  had  shown  neither  in- 
terest nor  alarm  during  these  proceedings,  but 
who  had  regarded  us  without  a  vestige  of  ani- 
mation. He  was  the  man  with  the  remarkable 
hat,  and  he  came  aboard  us  first  and  intro- 
duced himself  to  me. 

"My  name  is  Eichholz,"  said  he,  gazing  wea- 
rily past  me  at  nothing  in  particular;  "are  you 
Captain  Hawks?" 

As  my  commander's  representative,  I  did  the 
polite,  and  after  ordering  Timothy  Hanks  to 
let  go  the  hook,  I  explained  that  the  captain 
was  down  with  a  bout  of  fever. 

"Jus*  so,"  answered  Eichholz,  understand- 
ingly,  and  took  the  chair  I  offered. 

Eichholz  I  have  placed  permanently  among 
my  gallery  of  human  curiosities.  He  was  in- 
credibly thin  and  unusually  tall.  He  moved, 
spoke,  and  even  seemed  to  breathe  with  calcu- 
lated deliberation  and  with  occasional  lapses 
of  consciousness,  as  though  he  forgot  to  live. 


166  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

Extreme  caution  marked  his  most  trivial  action, 
while  he  possessed  an  odd  mannerism  that  was  in 
some  way  disconcerting.  In  spite  of  his  strange 
lethargy  he  appeared  to  be  in  a  state  of  nervous 
tension,  as  though,  for  instance,  he  was  momen- 
tarily expecting  to  be  shot  from  a  long  way  off  — 
as,  perhaps,  he  was !  These  two  states  of  lethargy 
and  nervous  tension  sound,  I  know,  impossible  to 
exist  at  one  time,  yet  they  seemed  to  exist  in  Eich- 
holz  who  both  bothered  and  puzzled  me.  I  was 
continually  wanting  to  ask  him  what  on  earth 
was  the  matter.  His  face  was  lined  and  warped,  it 
was  seared  as  though  by  fire,  or  by  some  hor- 
rible memory;  and  his  eyes,  quite  round  and  dis- 
playing the  entire  pupil,  moved  with  reluctant 
yet  continual  animation.  Yet  when  he  blinked 
he  would  sometimes  allow  his  eyes  to  remain 
closed  for  a  moment  or  so,  as  though  dreading 
the  power  of  vision.  I  never  saw  him  smile,  even 
the  conventional  smile  which  ordinary  polite- 
ness demands,  and  I  had  not  observed  him  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before  I  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  Eichholz  was  more  abjectly  miserable 
than  any  man  I  had  ever  beheld.  He  seemed 
horribly,  deeply,  shockingly  unhappy;  he  ap- 
peared sodden  with  misery,  without  hope,  and 
though  furtively  alarmed,  only  automatically 
alive.  It  seemed  incredible  that  a  white  man 
should  get  into  such  a  state,  and  his  state  fas- 


THE  COMPLETE  ANGLERS       167 

cinated  me  against  my  will.  For  there  was  noth- 
ing abject  about  Eichholz,  nothing  cowardly 
or  contemptible.  But  it  is  useless  for  me  to  try 
to  describe  him;  though  his  astonishingly  thin, 
tall,  stooping  figure,  in  rather  dirty,  ill-cut  white 
clothing,  his  shaven,  twisted  face,  wide  eyes  and 
rather  long,  untidy  grey  hah*,  his  prominent 
ears  and  pointed  nose  and  chin,  and  above  all 
his  strange  atmosphere  of  utter  despair  will 
remain  always  in  my  mind.  And  in  the  back- 
ground of  my  recollection  there  will  always  be 
that  mysterious  and  abysmal  forest;  in  fact, 
the  two  seem  inseparable,  they  seem  to  be  cause 
and  effect. 

"Mr.  Massingbird?"  asked  Eichholz;  "I  un- 
derstood that  Mr.  Massingbird  was  coming  with 
you." 

For  a  moment  I  gazed  at  his  inexplicable  face 
and  the  power  of  speech  left  me.  It  was  the  most 
extraordinary  thing  I  have  ever  had  to  say,  and 
with  really  an  immense  effort  I  said  it. 

"Mr.  Massingbird,"  said  I,  "went  temporarily 
mad.  He  drew  his  revolver  on  Captain  Hawks 
and  I  hit  him.  I  hit  him  with  my  fist  behind  the 
ear  and  killed  him.  Mr.  Massingbird  is  dead." 

Eichholz  rose  suddenly  from  his  chair. 


CHAPTER  VHI 

THE   BLOWGUN   INDIANS 

EICHHOLZ  walked  the  length  of  the  bridge,  and 
leaning  over  the  rail  addressed  the  mulatto  in 
command  of  the  river  boat  in  a  long,  earnest 
speech  in  some  mongrel  Spanish  dialect. 

I  waited  a  little  breathlessly  until  he  re- 
turned. 

"I  was  thinking,  Mr.  Mate,"  said  he,  in  his 
easy,  idiomatic  English,  "that  it  seems  a  pity 
to  waste  time  here,  and  that  if  my  boat  cast  off, 
we  might  proceed  to  Maloca  —  eh?" 

"Very  good,"  I  answered,  with  smothered  as- 
tonishment, and  rose  and  issued  my  orders. 

The  casting-off  of  the  river  steamer  was  some- 
thing of  a  business,  and  the  operation  was  per- 
formed mostly  by  our  men.  When  this  was 
accomplished,  we  up-anchored  and  proceeded, 
Eichholz's  steamer  following,  and  unable  to 
keep  pace  with  us  astern.  Captain  Esterkay 
took  charge,  and  I  conducted  Eichholz  down 
to  dinner,  and  he  ate  with  a  sudden  ravenous- 
ness  the  good  food  placed  before  him.  It  would 
seem  that  he  had  not  tasted  an  appetising  meal 
for  a  very  long  time  indeed,  and  it  was  not  until 


THE   BLOWGUN  INDIANS        169 

toward  the  end  of  dinner  that  he  again  referred 
to  Massingbird. 

"So  Mr.  Massingbird  died  of  fever,"  said  he; 
"well,  the  fever  gets  us  all  in  the  end." 

I  stared  at  him,  and  he,  for  a  moment,  looked 
me  back  calmly  in  the  eyes,  and  his  look  was  the 
look  of  a  sage  regarding  a  child. 

"Mr.  Massingbird,  as  I  have  told  you  — "I 
began. 

"I  know!  I  know!"  he  replied,  and  held  up  a 
long  and  by  no  means  clean  hand  with  a  quiet 
and  subtly  superior  gesture. 

For  a  moment  I  was  angry;  then  realising  the 
futility  of  anger  and  realising  also  that  I  was  in 
a  very  strange  world,  indeed,  I  shut  my  mouth 
and  grinned.  It  may  not  have  been  a  very 
pleasant  grin.  For  the  rest  of  the  meal  Eichholz 
did  the  talking.  He  talked,  of  course,  about 
rubber  and  the  rubber  market,  the  labour  diffi- 
culties and  the  river  world  in  general,  and  he 
was  interesting.  Some  men  can  speak  of  the 
most  trivial  matters  and  attract  one's  attention 
at  once.  Eichholz  was  one  of  these,  for  he  had 
great  intelligence,  and  the  more  I  saw  of  him  the 
more  I  wondered  how  and  why  such  a  man  came 
to  be  banished  to  this  appalling,  remote,  and 
savage  country.  He  never  asked  one  question 
about  the  world  of  civilised  men  that  he  had 
left  and  from  which  he  was  so  terribly  far  re- 


170  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

moved,  though  it  came  out  casually  in  conver- 
sation that  the  last  time  he  saw  a  newspaper  was 
four  months  before,  and  it  was  two  months  old 
at  the  time.  But  he  had  heard  of  Colonel  Calvin. 
That  intrepid  American  had,  to  use  a  useful 
phrase,  "  painted  the  Upper  Amazon  red."  Every 
one  knew  all  about  him,  or  said  that  they  did, 
and  the  colonel  was  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  a 
legendary  character  imbued  with  almost  Jove- 
Jike  powers.  There  seemed  no  doubt  at  all  that 
the  colonel  was,  indeed,  with  the  Blowgun  In- 
dians, and  was,  moreover,  very  much  alive  and 
kicking.  Yet  the  Blowgun  Indians  were  regarded 
by  the  white  men  and  imported  negroes  with 
far  greater  dread  than  was  ever  the  Apache  by 
the  early  settlers  in  the  West.  And  this  was  not 
on  account  of  their  ferocity,  for  the  Blowgun 
Indians  were  not  particularly  ferocious,  —  they, 
in  fact,  only  wished  to  be  let  alone,  —  but  it 
was  on  account  of  their  horrible  weapon  and 
still  more  horrible  ammunition.  From  Eich- 
holz  I  got  a  very  complete  account  of  both  the 
Indians  and  their  armament,  and  I  fully  con- 
fess that  I  would  far  sooner  be  shot  at  any  num- 
ber of  times  with  a  modern  rifle  than  once  with 
a  blowgun. 

The  Indians,  by  all  accounts,  were  a  well-set- 
up race  of  people,  a  light  copper  in  hue  and  with 
developed  heads  and  intellects.  They  moved 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS        171 

about  very  much  as  they  pleased,  and  though 
strongly  suspected  of  cannibalism  there  was,  so 
far,  no  direct  evidence  in  this  direction.  The 
"splendid  isolation"  afforded  them,  not  only  by 
the  nature  of  the  country  they  inhabited,  but 
more  by  their  shocking  weapons,  had  enabled 
them  to  remain  practically  undisturbed  and 
work  out  their  own  destiny  along  their  own  lines : 
though  of  course  any  large  amount  of  informa- 
tion concerning  them  was  not  to  be  had,  as  they 
made  it  a  sort  of  matter  of  principle  to  shoot  all 
white  men  on  sight.  They  were  able  to  move 
about  through  the  most  impenetrable  forest 
with  easy,  soundless  speed,  and  usually  the  first 
warning  which  a  man  had  of  having  stumbled 
inadvertently  across  a  Blowgun  Indian  was  a 
sudden  and  swift  difficulty  in  breathing.  Then 
a  rapidly  creeping  paralysis  caused  him  first  to 
stumble  and  then  to  fall,  while  he  struggled  for 
breath  like  the  drowning.  From  these  symptoms 
he  might  know  that  he  had  been  shot  by  a 
Blowgun  Indian  and  that  his  inevitable  death 
would  take  place  not  more  than  four  minutes 
later.  Such  a  death,  I  take  it,  was  enough  to 
scare  any  man;  it  was  certainly  enough  to  scare 
me! 

The  blowgun  is  from  six  to  eight  feet  long, 
with  a  most  ingenious  mouthpiece  at  the  heavy 
end.  The  darts  used,  and  which  the  Indians 


172  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

can  blow  with  complete  accuracy  up  to  thirty 
yards  (a  longer  range  was  unnecessary,  any- 
way, in  such  a  country),  were  supposed  to  be 
about  five  inches  long,  but  Eichholz  thought 
that  they  were  considerably  shorter.  These 
darts,  as  sharply  pointed  as  it  was  possible  to 
get  them  and  hardly  of  a  greater  diameter  than 
a  steel  knitting-needle,  revolve  rapidly  in  flight 
by  means  of  a  spiral  twist  of  raw  cotton,  as  an 
arrow  revolves  in  flight  by  means  of  the  feathers 
in  its  shaft.  The  discharge  and  passage  of  the 
dart  are,  of  course,  soundless,  and  a  man  sur- 
rounded by  stinging  insects,  scratched  and  raked 
by  thorny  branches,  and  tangled  up  in  a  mass  of 
resisting  vegetation  would,  as  like  as  not,  never 
notice  the  minute,  needle-like  puncture  of  the 
dart  through  a  thin  cotton  shirt,  or  in  bare  neck, 
arms,  or  shoulders.  And  to  puncture  the  skin  is 
all  that  is  necessary.  Once  the  blood  is  reached, 
nothing  on  earth  can  save  him,  and  he  is  doomed 
to  death  by  the  most  horrible  form  of  suffoca- 
tion. For  the  curare  with  which  the  darts  are 
tipped  does  not,  strangely  enough,  affect  the 
heart.  The  paralysis  it  causes  only  prevents  a 
man  from  inflating  and  deflating  the  lungs,  a 
fate  shocking  enough  to  contemplate;  yet,  Colo- 
nel Ezra  Calvin,  that  amazing  New  Englander, 
was  apparently  living  amicably  in  the  midst  of  the 
Blowgun  Indians  and  their  wonderful  weapons. 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS        173 

As  that  day  passed  and  we  continued  up- 
stream, there  was  abundant  evidence  of  the 
changing  nature  of  the  country.  The  current 
of  the  river  grew  swifter  and  the  banks  higher, 
rising  even  at  times  to  low  cliffs  of  clay,  with 
here  and  there  an  outcrop  of  stones.  But  there 
was  plenty  of  room  for  the  Martin  Connor,  at 
any  rate,  at  that  time  of  year,  and  toward  sun- 
set we  opened  out  a  clearing  that  marked  the 
up-country  headquarters  of  the  Rio  Maloca 
Rubber  Company,  one  of  the  tentacles,  as  it 
were,  of  the  octopus-like  Rio  Maranon  Rubber 
Company. 

The  clearing  was,  perhaps,  some  ten  or 
twelve  acres  in  extent,  the  forest  surrounding  it 
on  three  sides.  As  the  ultimate  end  of  a  consid- 
erable voyage  it  seemed  inadequate  and  hardly 
worth  a  place  on  the  map.  The  house  of  Eich- 
holz,  a  six-roomed  dwelling  on  stilts,  stood  apart, 
with  a  flagstaff  bearing  the  tattered  remains  of 
a  flag  before  it.  Behind  this  there  stood  a 
number  of  long  buildings  used  as  storehouses, 
while  a  square  thatched  roof  upon  eight  or  ten 
tree-trunk  pillars  gave  shelter  to  the  first  process 
which  the  newly  gathered  rubber  underwent, 
where,  in  fact,  it  was  changed 'from  the  cream- 
like  substance  produced  by  the  trees  to  lumps 
of  soft  consistency,  worth  about  a  dollar  a  kilo- 
gramme in  Maloca  and  worth  twice  as  much  hi 


174  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

Para.  The  time  that  we  were  there  was  the  time 
of  a  rubber  boom,  and  the  rubber  companies 
and  company  promoters  were  rolling  in  money. 
For  an  establishment  of  a  rich  combine,  Maloca 
was  surprising;  it  suggested  the  results  of  costly 
litigation  and  a  fallen  market.  But  we  were  new 
to  the  Amazonian  way  of  doing  business,  which 
way  is,  perhaps,  the  most  stupid  and  extraor- 
dinary in  the  world.  For  years  the  people  of  the 
Amazon  Valley  have  sacrificed  everything,  in- 
cluding the  river  Indians,  to  the  collection  of 
rubber.  They  have  planted  nothing,  not  even 
rubber  trees  to  any  extent,  and  they  have  wholly 
neglected  all  cultivation  of  foodstuffs.  Not  only 
have  they  no  manufactures,  but  the  customs 
tariffs  are  of  such  a  character  that  it  is  impos- 
sible for  them  to  manufacture  anything  in  the 
country  with  a  profit.  Everything,  be  it  the 
most  trivial  and  everyday  necessities  like  but- 
ter or  eggs  or  cheese,  must  be  imported  in  sealed 
tins  and  pay  an  enormous  import  duty,  and  life 
in  an  Amazonian  swamp  is  about  as  expensive 
as  life  on  Fifth  Avenue  or  in  Park  Lane.  Sur- 
rounded by  a  profligacy  of  nature  that  amazes 
the  eye,  Eichholz  was  living  on  canned  meat 
from  Chicago,  tinned  butter  and  awfully  pre- 
served eggs  from  Denmark,  eating  off  English 
plates  on  English  tables  and  drinking  Scotch 
whiskey,  and  doing  so  at  a  really  stupendous 


cost  —  this  upon  a  waterway,  long,  it  is  true, 
yet  leading  to  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  without 
necessary  transhipment.  I  was  inclined  to  agree 
with  Wilfred,  whose  economical  domestic  policy 
was  shocked  at  these  conditions. 

"These  'ere  people,"  remarked  the  little  man, 
who  had  been  making  pointed  enquiries,  "are 
mad  or  drunk.  This  country  is  fair  rottin'  wiv 
money,  or  the  prospec's  of  money,  an'  all  they  do 
is  to  collec'  their  bloomin'  old  rubber  and  collec' 
it  in  sech  a  manner  as  ter  kill  the  trees.  Wat's 
the  sense  of  it,  fer  the  goodness  sake?  Hey?" 

"Climate,"  said  I. 

And  Cert'nly  Wilfred  intimated  his  doubts 
of  the  accuracy  of  my  statement. 

" Yer  a  liar,"  said  he,  "it  ain't.  Hit's  natural- 
born  wickedness,  which  is  only  another  name 
fer  a  particular  kind  of  stupidity.  Hi  jes'  don't 
hunderstand  it,  no  Hi  don't.  Hi  ain't  no  com- 
mercial man,  though  maybe  Hi  'ave  got  a  tidy 
little  sum  put  by  in  the  London  General.  But 
even  Hi  can  see  what  could  be  done  'ere." 

"Theoretically  -    "  I  began. 

"Ain't  got  no  use  fer  theories.  Theories  is  one 
of  the  things  what  people  invent  instead  of 
workin*.  What's  wanted  'ere  is  a  practical  hap- 
plication  of  ordinary  common  sense  along  busi- 
ness lines.  Like  what  a  frien'  of  mine  in  London 
did  and  does.  'E's  in  the  'at-guard  line." 


176  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"Hat-guard?"  I  asked  wonderingly. 

"Yus,  'at-guard.  You  know,  'e  sells  strings 
what  yer  farsten  to  yer  'at  to  keep  it  from 
blowin'  away.  Got  the  point?  Well,  they  costs 
'im,  my  frien',  these  'at-guards  do,  tuppince  a 
dozen  all  farstened  ready  to  a  card  with  a  pitcher 
of  the  King  on  it  wearin'  one.  Now,  my  frien', 
'e  don't  sell  'em  at  tuppince  each  on  Ludgit  '111 
as  most  others  do.  'E's  got  henterprise  an*  'e 
sells  'is  bloomin'  'at-guards  at  sixpince  heach 
on  the  'scursion  boats  sailin'  from  London 
Bridge  for  Soufend,  Clacton,  and  Ramsgit.  'E 
goes  aboard  an'  swears  blind  it's  goin'  ter  blow, 
puts  on  a  jersey  an'  makes  out  'e's  a  sailor, 
though  'e's  bin  on  nothink  more  than  the  Ser- 
pintine.  Well,  it  gen'rally  does  blow  in  Eng- 
land, we  ain't  smooth-water  people,  and  any 
man  that  ain't  a  mug  would  sooner  pay  sixpince 
f  er  an  'at-guard  than  lose  a  three  an'  ninepenny 
Dunn.  Theoretically,  my  frien'  is  makin'  an 
outrageous  profit,  but  'e  ain't  reely.  'Cause 
why?  'Cause  'e  'as  a  right  to  'is  sixpince,  not 
because  'e  jest  can  get  it,  not  because  'e  arsks  fer 
it,  but  because  'e's  got  the  bloomin'  sense  to 
take  'is  'at-guards  wheer  they  are  worth  six- 
pince of  anybody's  money.  That's  efficiency, 
that  is,  an'  no  bloomin'  theories — see?" 

"But  I  don't  see  how  that  applies  — "I  be- 
gan. 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS        177 

"'Ere!"  broke  in  Wilfred;  "I've  got  seven 
joints  of  meat  roasting  in  the  galley  an'  you  keep 
me  talkin'  'alf  the  day  —  you  the  mate  of  this 
ship!  You  should  know  better,  George  'En-ery 
Grummet!"  —  and  he  hurried  off  to  the  galley. 

The  coming  alongside  the  wharf  at  Maloca 
was  a  delicate  business,  for  the  wharf  was  as 
fragile  as  a  frame  house.  As  the  captain  was  too 
ill  with  fever,  the  job  fell  to  me,  and  I  had  all 
that  I  could  do  not  to  root  the  crazy  structure 
from  its  foundations.  It  was  built  for  river 
boats  and  not  ocean-going  steamers,  and  I  had 
profound  misgivings  whether  it  could  hold  us 
when  we  were  there.  So  I  sent  out  a  kedge  and 
warped  in,  holding  to  the  river  bed  more  than 
to  the  wharf,  and  by  nightfall  we  were  tied  up, 
officially  at  our  journey's  end. 

It  was  now,  and  for  the  first  time,  that  we 
came  in  actual  and  regular  contact  with  the 
shore,  and  there  was  much  of  astonishing  interest 
to  a  man  with  eyes  in  his  head.  The  rubber  grew 
wild  in  the  forest  and  was  gathered  in  a  liquid 
state  by  the  Indians,  who,  cutting  the  tree- 
trunk  in  a  certain  manner,  tapped  and  col- 
lected the  milky  juice  known  as  "latex."  This 
latex  of  the  best  trees  and  plants  furnished  from 
twenty  to  fifty  per  cent  of  rubber,  and  what 
precisely  this  juice  is,  or  what  part  it  plays  in 
the  organism  of  the  tree,  nobody  seemed  to 


178  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

know,  for  it  was  not  the  sap  of  the  tree,  being 
found  just  under  the  bark  and  outside  the  wood 
proper.  Though  it  appeared  like  milk  it  did  not 
taste  the  same,  for  Wilfred  tried  it.  Yet  its  re- 
semblance to  milk  is  remarkable,  for  when  left 
to  stand  it  produced  "cream."  This  cream  was 
called  "caoutchouc,"  if  I  remember  right,  pro- 
nounced like  a  sneeze.  This  stuff  gradually  co- 
agulated and  became  solid,  the  process  being 
facilitated  by  the  introduction  of  certain  chemi- 
cals that  vary  according  to  the  latex  gathered. 
When  the  latex  began  to  solidify,  it  was  rolled 
into  a  more  or  less  spherical  shape,  and  was 
added  to  by  pouring  fresh  latex  over  it  until  the 
mass  arrived  at  a  convenient  weight  and  size 
for  handling.  It  was  odd  thus  to  see  rubber 
poured  from  a  tin  jug;  and,  as  Wilfred  said,  it 
seemed  a  long  way  off  a  taxicab!  At  the  time 
that  we  were  there  the  settlement  was  almost 
empty,  as  large  quantities  of  rubber  had  come 
in  recently  and  the  Indians  had  been  forced  to 
go  farther  afield.  Why  precisely  the  Indians 
consented  to  gather  rubber  we  were  at  a  loss  to 
discover.  Their  payment  was  a  farce,  and  they 
were,  practically  speaking,  slaves,  and  atro- 
ciously treated  slaves  at  that.  There  was  a  gang 
of  negro  overseers  that  gave  both  Captain 
Hawks  and  myself  some  uneasiness.  Clad  in 
tattered  canvas  trousers  and  wide-brimmed 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS        179 

hats,  they  strolled  about  armed  with  modern 
rifles,  and  their  manners,  to  put  it  delicately, 
were  not  what  they  should  have  been.  Their 
constitutions  were  better  fitted  to  stand  the 
climate  than  those  of  the  alleged  white  men, 
who,  fever-racked,  lonely,  and  debased,  did 
not  show  up  to  advantage.  Moreover,  it  was 
the  duty  of  these  negroes  to  drive  the  Indians, 
and  they  drove  them  without  mercy,  pity,  or 
compassion.  The  bearing,  therefore,  of  these 
overseers  was  next  thing  to  impossible,  and  a 
conflict  with  our  crew  seemed  inevitable.  Once 
the  trouble  began,  unless  we  could  stop  it, 
Maloca  and  its  negro  and  possibly  white  popu- 
lation would  get  wiped  off  the  map. 

Three  days  after  we  had  arrived,  and  while 
we  were  busy  discharging  cargo,  a  large  buck 
negro,  clad  in  the  usual  ragged  trousers  and  hat 
and  with  the  inevitable  machete  at  his  belt, 
came  lounging  aboard  as  though  he  owned  the 
ship  and  discovered  Wilfred  at  work  in  the  gal- 
ley. The  negro  spoke  English  (he,  like  the  rest, 
came  from  Barbadoes),  and  leaning  easily  at  the 
galley  door,  he  observed  the  little  cook  break- 
ing up  a  large  piece  of  coal  in  order  to  get  it  into 
the  stove.  Wilfred  was  busy  and  did  not  see  the 
negro  at  first,  and  Wilfred,  clad  in  a  shirt  and 
cotton  trousers,  looked  very  small,  indeed.  So 
the  negro  laughed  and  remarked  upon  Wilfred's 


180  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

stature,  and  Wilfred,  never  slow  at  repartee, 
turned  about  and  replied  with  the  iron  hammer 
in  his  hand  at  the  moment,  and  the  negro  went 
to  sleep  for  a  long  time.  This  caused  irritation, 
and  matters  were  not  made  better  by  a  second 
negro,  engaged  to  assist  us  to  land  cargo,  spit- 
ting on  the  forward  main-deck.  Now,  there  was 
an  unwritten  law  in  the  Martin  Connor  that, 
though  you  could  spit  if  you  wanted  to,  you 
might  not  spit  except  overside.  An  altercation 
followed,  the  negro  was  insolent,  and  Timothy 
Hanks,  who  was  in  charge,  hit  him  all  over  the 
forward  deck  until  he  was  carried  ashore  by  his 
friends.  The  following  day  a  third  negro  ar- 
rived, one  chosen  by  his  fellows,  and  demanded 
to  see  Captain  Hawks.  He  was  interviewed 
by  myself.  He  demanded  reparation  on  behalf 
of  his  two  friends,  who  appeared  to  be  the  worse 
for  wear.  I  answered  that  I  thought  no  repara- 
tion was  necessary  as,  in  the  first  place,  a  negro 
had  made  an  uncalled-for  personal  remark  to  a 
white  man,  and  in  the  second,  a  negro  had  in- 
fringed a  by-law  of  the  ship  and  had  been  inso- 
lent when  rebuked.  The  negro  who  had  come 
to  see  Captain  Hawks  then  became  abusive,  and 
he  was  landed  later  by  means  of  one  of  the  for- 
ward derricks  at  the  moment  engaged  in  hoisting 
carboys  of  chemicals  from  the  hold.  That  began 
the  trouble  with  the  negro  overseers,  who,  with 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS        181 

firearms,  and  machetes,  and  with  no  adequate 
authority  over  them,  were  a  distinct  source  of 
danger.  As  our  men  were  itching  to  "man- 
handle" every  darky  in  the  place,  Captain 
Hawks,  Timothy  Hanks,  myself,  and  the  engi- 
neers had  all  we  could  do  to  prevent  really  seri- 
ous consequences. 

But  to  keep  the  men  aboard  when  work  was 
over  not  only  was  impossible,  but  would  have 
been  unjust.  They  had  every  right  to  go  ashore, 
and  ashore  they  went,  but  always  in  numbers, 
and  they  brought  back  some  astonishing  things 
to  the  ship.  Whenever  they  chanced  across 
Indians  who  knew  them  to  be  off  the  Martin 
Connor,  whose  favourable  reputation  had  pre- 
ceded her  by  means  of  Indian  "wireless,"  a  good 
deal  of  trading  took  place,  which  trading  was 
strictly  prohibited  by  the  Rio  Maloca  Rubber 
Company.  But  for  my  part  I  could  not  see  why 
our  men  should  not  trade  if  they  wished.  By 
what  right  a  certain  body  of  men  can  assume 
ownership  over  a  vast  tract  of  country  which 
they  fail  to  civilise,  survey,  or  even  explore,  I  do 
not  know,  neither  did  our  men.  I  put  the  situa- 
tion to  the  captain,  who  answered:  "Let  'em  go 
ahead,  Grummet;  I'm  sick  to  death  of  these 
rubber  trusts  anyway."  So  the  men  went  ahead, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives  the  Indians 
had  a  chance  of  fair  and  just  bargains,  whereby 


182  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

every  man  in  the  forecastle  and  Wilfred  in  the 
galley  accumulated  rubber  that  was  worth  con- 
siderably more  than  their  wages  for  the  entire 
trip;  rubber  which,  however,  was  eventually 
thrown  overside. 

The  difficulties  that  arose  over  landing  the 
cargo  at  Maloca  caused  my  commander  to 
make  one  of  his  rare  speeches  to  the  crew.  He 
explained  that  there  was,  apparently,  no  one  at 
Maloca  to  unload  the  ship.  He  admitted  that 
there  were  the  negroes,  but  the  negroes  were 
employed  by  Eichholz  for  the  Rio  Maloca  Rub- 
ber Company,  and  were  not  his  —  Captain 
Hawks's  —  to  order  about.  Although  he  knew 
that  the  crew  had  signed  on  to  work  the  ship 
and  not  her  cargo,  her  cargo  would  rot  in  the 
hold  unless  the  crew  unloaded  her.  Therefore 
he  would  be  obliged  to  them  if  they  would  con- 
sider the  situation  and  decide  to  meet  him  in  the 
difficulty  of  their  own  accord;  since,  if  they  did 
not,  he  would  be  under  the  unpleasant  necessity 
of  making  them.  Each  man  should  earn  full 
stevedore's  wages  for  the  period  plus  their  ordi- 
nary pay,  and  any  negro  that  happened  to  be 
knocking  about  and  who  the  crew  thought 
might  be  useful  in  the  hold  —  why  —  he  left  it 
to  them  to  decide  what  was  the  best  thing  to 
do.  But  there  must  be  no  actual  trouble,  or  he 
would  see  to  it  personally  —  he  would  come  down 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS         183 

to  the  main-deck  or  into  the  forecastle  if  neces- 
sary —  he  would  see  to  it  personally  that  the 
crew  had  as  unpleasant  a  time  as  any  man 
"there  among  you"  has  had  inside  or  outside 
jail. 

The  crew  stood  and  grinned;  they  were  a  joy 
to  behold.  They  all  wore  hats,  for  hats  were  a 
necessity,  but  otherwise  their  clothing  was  not 
of  a  ceremonious  nature,  though  'Arry  Ketchold 
wore  a  shirt  as  well  as  trousers  in  honour  of  the 
dignity  of  his  position  as  boatswain.  They  were 
hairy  and  muscular,  they  were  truculent  and 
cheerful,  and  they  grinned  at  the  captain  with 
real,  genuine  affection.  This  was  man-talk  and 
they  understood  it.  They  also  understood  that 
Captain  Hawks  could,  there  and  then,  did  he 
choose,  thrash  any  three  of  them  simultaneously 
with  his  bare  fists,  let  alone  what  he  could  do 
with  a  belaying  pin  and  a  gun.  He  was  the  best 
man  in  the  ship;  they  were  prepared  to  go  ashore 
and  tell  Maloca  that  Captain  Hawks  was  the 
best  man  in  South  America,  in  North  America, 
in  the  Western  Hemisphere  —  in  the  whole 
world;  and  they  intimated  their  willingness  to 
work  cargo  through  the  boatswain,  who,  thus 
cast  into  sudden  prominence,  was  stricken  with 
stage  fright,  and  in  consequence  discovered  his 
voice  in  the  top  of  his  head.  This  caused  a  man 
behind  him  to  let  out  a  laugh,  whereby  he  re- 


184  THE  MARTIN   CONNOR 

ceived  a  back-handed  blow  from  'Arry  Ketch- 
old,  delivered  surreptitiously,  that  would  have 
felled  an  ox. 

The  next  negro  that  strolled  aboard  vanished. 
He  was  promptly  and  silently  confiscated  and 
set  to  work  in  the  hold,  and  we  had  no  more 
bother  with  them.  Thus  the  cargo  that  came 
aboard  at  Galveston  was  whipped  out  in  record 
time,  and  the  cargo  that  was  awaiting  us  in  the 
storehouses  was  brought  down  to  the  wharf  by 
Indians,  ready  to  be  put  aboard. 

Meanwhile  our  bill-of-fare  was  undergoing 
some  startling  changes  due  to  enterprising  ex- 
periments by  Wilfred  with  the  local  productions. 
Timothy  Hanks  was  our  sportsman  assisted  by 
one  of  the  crew,  and  the  bag  often  contained  a 
variety  that  ranged  from  wild  ducks  in  abun- 
dance, turkeys,  doves,  and  unknown  birds  to  a 
young  tapir  or  two.  This  last,  the  tapir,  is  a  wild 
(very,  very  wild)  hog,  and  when  young  is  excel- 
lent eating.  Wilfred  experimented  in  smoking 
tapir  meat,  and  built  himself  a  smokehouse  on 
the  after  main-deck,  and  after  nearly  suffocating 
us  all  he  got  his  machinery  in  order  and  pro- 
duced what  was  every  bit  as  good  as  the  best 
Yorkshire  hams,  and  Yorkshire,  England,  beats 
any  place  I  have  ever  been  to,  so  far  as  pork  is 
considered.  Then  Wilfred  tried  smoking  mana- 
tee meat,  but  this  was  not  a  success,  so  he  tried 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS        185 

pickling  and  nearly  pickled  himself,  for  he  fell 
into  the  vat.  His  pickling  was  an  advanced  sort 
of  pickling,  almost  scientific,  needing  changes 
of  flavouring  at  extraordinary  hours  of  the  night 
and  morning,  and  after  a  lengthy  and  compli- 
cated process  his  production  was  not  unlike 
inferior  beef  with  a  strong  medicinal  flavour. 
So  he  gave  up  experimenting  in  that  direction 
and  the  manatees  went  to  Percy,  the  alligator, 
who  was  now,  if  not  tame,  not  quite  so  violently 
disposed  to  man.  But  your  real  artist  cannot 
always  be  successful;  a  man  who  cannot  make 
mistakes  cannot  make  anything,  and  Wilfred's 
pickling  and  smoking  operations  were  a  source 
of  great  interest  to  us  all,  for  with  these  strange 
and  unknown  animals  one  never  knew  what  he 
would  produce.  He  never  knew  himself,  for 
though  the  Indians  and  the  white  men  had 
eaten  most  of  these  animals  and  birds  with 
which  he  experimented,  their  efforts  had  been 
crude  and  devoid  of  that  touch  of  genius  which 
Wilfred  possessed  and  by  which  we  all  bene- 
fited. 

With  the  tapirs,  however,  he  was  uniformly 
successful  and  happy  in  his  results,  and-  inci- 
dentally, so  were  we.  As,  at -length,  he  carried 
his  operations  to  such  an  extent  as  materially 
to  reduce  the  expenditure  of  ship's  stores,  Cap- 
tain Hawks  arranged  with  Timothy  Hanks 


186  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

(an  inveterate  sportsman)  that  he  should  spend 
more  time  with  his  gun,  and  should  have  two 
men  regularly  to  help  him.  The  tapirs  swarmed 
in  uncounted  multitudes  and  averaged  a  good 
three  foot  to  the  shoulder.  They  were  as  much 
at  home  in  the  water  as  on  land,  and  they  would 
gladly  fight  anything.  When  startled  they  would 
career  through  the  underbrush,  their  leathern 
hides  remaining  unhurt  by  the  worst  thorns, 
and  as  they  generally  came  for  you  like  a  large 
projectile,  the  hunting  of  the  tapirs  was  not 
without  incident,  for  the  tapir  always  meant 
business.  They  were  a  light  brown  in  colour, 
had  fighting  eyes,  and  made  sounds  like  other 
pigs,  though  the  sounds  were  more  warlike  than 
is  the  voice  of  our  homely  porker.  When  we 
arrived  home,  long  after,  I  looked  up  "tapir" 
in  a  well-known  and  highly  respected  encyclo- 
paedia and  read:  "The  tapir  can  be  brought 
under  the  subjection  of  man  and  is  easily 
tamed."  This  was  not  our  experience,  which 
leads  me  to  conclude  that  there  must  be  a  mis- 
take somewhere,  for  the  tapirs  which  we  en- 
countered would  most  certainly  not  come  under 
the  subjection  of  man  until  they  were  very 
dead,  indeed;  and  would  have  charged  a  battle- 
ship in  the  water,  or  a  fifty-storied  steel-con- 
struction building  on  land.  No,  there  were  "no 
flies"  on  the  tapirs;  we  liked  them,  for  they 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS        187 

seemed  to  be  the  only  thoroughly  sane  and 
healthy  creatures  in  the  Amazon  Valley  except, 
maybe,  the  Blowgun  Indians. 

Then  there  was  the  manatee.  As  I  had  not 
heard  of  this  beast  before  I  was  up  the  Amazon, 
perhaps  I  might  be  permitted  to  explain  that  the 
manatee  is  one  of  the  family  rejoicing  in  the 
generic  name  of  Sirenia,  and  that  the  manatee 
looks  Teutonic  in  origin.  It  is,  however,  not 
Teutonic  in  character.  Ten  or  twelve  feet  in 
length  seemed  to  be  the  average  size  of  the 
manatee,  and  all  the  specimens  which  we  saw 
seemed  to  be  affected  with  profound  lethargy. 
It  lives  in  the  water,  and  is  in  striking  contrast 
with  the  rest  of  the  violent  and  intense  life  of 
the  Amazon  jungle.  All  the  other  creatures  re- 
sent man's  intrusion  in  unmistakeable  terms, 
but  the  manatee  just  sleeps  when  he  is  alive,  and 
is  just  dead  when  he  is  dead.  A  slumberous  dis- 
regard of  danger  that  is  half  pathetic  and  half 
unreasonably  stupid  has  saved  the  manatee 
from  the  fate  of  the  more  warlike  and  active. 
And  so  the  manatee  lives  on,  not  often  awake, 
never  quite  sure  that  he  is  alive;  and  that  is 
about  all  there  is  to  say  of  the  manatee.  I  have 
met  some  people  like  manatees. 

As  for  the  birds,  the  pigeons,  the  turkeys, 
the  doves,  and  the  many  others  which  we  could 
not  name,  we  had  them  in  stews,  in  pies,  on 


188  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

toast,  and  in  casseroles.  We  lived  like  kings 
and  princes  with  a  great  variety  of  menu,  which 
no  doubt  had  an  excellent  effect  upon  us,  for 
I  am  convinced  that  bad  and  monotonous  food 
plays  no  small  part  in  the  great  Amazon  tragedy. 
In  such  a  climate  the  most  healthy  appetite 
fails  and  must  be  tempted  by  succulent  fare,  as 
we  found  to  be  the  case  when  Wilfred's  turn 
came  to  go  down  with  fever.  You  just  did  not 
want  to  eat,  so  you  gradually  ate  less  and  less; 
this  was  so  with  all  of  us;  but  when  Wilfred 
recovered  and  was  up  and  about  again,  our 
appetites  miraculously  returned. 

And  then  there  came  a  rude  interruption  to 
our  pleasant  active  life.  A  stern  wheeler  ar- 
rived from  down-stream  flying  the  flag  of  the 
mighty  Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Company,  and 
she  was  full  and  bulging  with  men. 

We  had,  by  then,  been  a  week  or  ten  days  at 
Maloca,  and  had  discharged  our  cargo  and  were 
an  empty  ship,  a  fact  that  played  no  small  part 
in  the  events  to  come.  The  stern  wheeler 
dropped  anchor  smartly  enough  in  midstream, 
and  she  showed  in  her  management  and  general 
condition  a  marked  difference  from  the  average 
river  craft  and  especially  from  Eichholz's  steamer 
that  was  moored  to  the  river  bank  to  give  us 
room  at  the  wharf. 

A  flat-bottomed  boat  put  off  from  the  Rio 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS        189 

Maranon  steamer  and  came  punting  across  to- 
ward us.  Besides  the  men  propelling  the  boat, 
there  were  two  men  with  rifles  and  a  stout  in- 
dividual with  an  official  bearing. 

''Ello!"  remarked  Wilfred,  who  was  smok- 
ing a  cigarette  near  the  gangplank,  ' ;  'ere  's 
Uncle  Boffin  from  Palmer's  Green!" 

The  boat  came  round  our  bows  and  up  to  the 
wharf,  and  the  stout  man  and  the  two  men 
carrying  rifles  climbed  the  short  bamboo  ladder, 
gained  the  wharf,  then  marched  aboard  us  with- 
out invitation. 

"'Ere!"  expostulated  Wilfred  smartly,  "this 
'ere's  private  property,  old  dear!" 

The  stout  man,  who  was  followed  closely  by 
the  two  men  with  the  rifles,  paid  not  the  very 
least  attention  to  Wilfred's  existence. 

"Now,  see  'ere,  Willy,"  remarked  the  little 
cook,  "none  o'  thet,  if  you  please,  or  you'll  get 
sech  a  masher  in  yer  eye  thet  you'll  wish  you'd 
never,  never  seen  me!"  And  Wilfred  promptly 
laid  a  restraining  though  perfectly  civil  hand 
on  the  stout  man's  arm,  for  the  stout  man  was 
briskly  aiming  for  the  port  alleyway,  as  though 
intent  upon  gaining  the  main  cabin.  The  effect 
of  this  action  was  instantaneous,  The  stout  man 
rapped  out  an  order,  and  the  two  men  with 
rifles  sent  Wilfred  skittling  across  the  deck  as 
though  he  had  been  a  child.  Up  till  then  I  had 


190  •,*      THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

been  watching,  but  at  that  I  interfered,  and  I 
did  so  without  loss  of  time,  for  I  was  more  than 
a  little  angry.  But  quick  though  I  may  have 
been  I  did  not  arrive  before  the  little  cook  had 
planted  a  very  sharp  and  nasty  blow  under  the 
chin  of  one  of  the  men  with  rifles.  He  had  aimed 
for  the  man's  eye,  but  could  n't  reach,  and  my 
arrival  was  just  in  time  to  prevent  the  other 
man  from  felling  the  cook  with  the  butt  of  his 
rifle.  I  hit  that  man,  I  hit  him  as  hard  as  I 
could,  and  meanwhile  the  stout  man  clapped 
a  whistle  to  his  mouth  and  blew  an  echoing 
screech  and  started  running  for  the  main  cabin. 
I  turned  after  him  and  grabbed  him  by  his  white 
coat  collar,  and  to  my  considerable  astonish- 
ment he  unhesitatingly  drew  a  revolver.  By 
this  time  you  can  imagine  that  I  was  really 
angry,  more  with  the  impudence  of  the  proceed- 
ing than  with  anything  else. 

"You  idiot!"  I  cried  angrily  and  wrenched 
the  pistol  from  his  hand.  The  weapon  went  off 
with  a  bang,  a  bang  that  summoned  every  one  to 
the  spot. 

"What" —  enquired  the  captain  arriving  in 
a  hurry,  —  "what's  this?" 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is,  sir,"  I  replied,  hold- 
ing my  man  tightly,  "but  it  marched  aboard 
and  tried  to  shoot  me." 

The  stout  man  instantly  burst  into  the  most 


THE  BLOWGUN  INDIANS        191 

rapid  speech  I  have  ever  heard;  it  was  like  the 
rattling  of  a  machine,  speech  which  none  of  us 
except  Captain  Esterkay  could  understand;  and 
glancing  over  my  shoulder  toward  the  newly  ar- 
rived Rio  Maranon  steamer  I  noticed  that  two 
boats  full  of  men  were  putting  off  and  aiming 
for  the  shore. 

Captain  Esterkay  whistled  in  astonishment. 

"He's  come  to  arrest  Grummet!"  cried  the 
Southerner  in  sudden  alarm;  "he's  come  to 
arrest  Grummet  for  killing  that  bug  Massing- 
bird!  Say,  Matthew,  here's  trouble!" 

And  then  several  things  happened  at  once. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN  WHICH  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR  RETREATS 
STRATEGICALLY 

To  begin  with,  our  crew,  deckhands  and  stokers 
alike,  raised  up  their  voices  and,  in  different 
tones  but  with  a  common  note  of  exultation, 
cried:  "Hooray!  He's  come  to  arrest  the  mate! 
Let's  go  and  wreck  their  mud-pusher! !" 

Captain  Hawks  gave  one  glance  at  the  two 
boatfuls  of  armed  men  hurrying  toward  the 
wharf,  and  grasping  my  prisoner  by  the  slack 
of  his  pants  and  the  collar  of  his  coat  he  ran  him 
with  great  speed  into  the  lamp  locker.  During 
his  sudden,  violent,  and  most  undignified  prog- 
ress, the  stout  man's  anger  caused  him  to  make 
noises  like  the  squealing  of  a  pig,  to  the  uproari- 
ous merriment  of  the  crew,  who  refused  to  be 
silenced  by  a  loud  order  from  myself.  There 
was  certainly  a  humorous  side  to  the  affair,  but 
they  should  not  have  laughed  at  an  adversary 
who  was  getting  the  worst  of  it.  Into  the  oily 
locker  went  that  stout,  self-important  official; 
he  went  with  an  impetus  and  rapidity  that 
must  have  startled  him,  and  I  have  seldom  seen 
a  man  handled  so  completely.  It  was  like  a 


HE  RAN  HIM  WITH  GREAT  SPEED  INTO  THE  LAMP  LOCKEB 


THE  CONNOR  RETREATS        193 

conjuring  trick,  —  one  moment  the  man  was  in 
our  midst,  the  next  and  he  was  in  the  lamp 
locker,  the  iron  door,  which  fastened  outside, 
slammed  and  bolted. 

"For  land's  sake,  Matthew!"  gasped  Captain 
Esterkay,  while  angry  bangs  and  screeches  came 
from  within  the  locker,  interspersed  with  the 
splintering  tinkle  of  broken  glass  which  told 
eloquently  of  the  prisoner's  state  of  mind;  "for 
land's  sake,  Matthew,  that  man  is  a  command- 
ant—" 

"I  don't  care  who  or  what  he  is!"  said  the 
captain  savagely.  "  He  tried  to  shoot  my  mate ! " 
And  then  to  the  men  —  "  Draw  in  that  gang- 
plank!" 

The  crew,  in  a  body,  rushed  to  obey,  just  as 
the  armed  men  from  the  two  boats  began  to 
arrive  upon  the  wharf. 

"Now  get  under  cover,"  was  the  next  order, 
and  the  men  dropped  behind  the  iron  bulwarks 
grinning  broadly. 

The  ship  was  some  three  feet  out  from  the 
wharf,  and  owing  to  our  empty  holds  some  eight 
or  ten  feet  above  it.  To  board  her  without 
gangplank  or  ladder  was  impossible,  and  over 
the  bulwarks  leaned  Captain  Hawks  with  a  large 
revolver  in  his  hand.  The  men  from  the  boats 
arrived  one  by  one  and  paused  upon  the  wharf 
uncertain  what  to  do,  though  some  of  them 


194  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

fingered  their  rifles  with  practised  and  itch- 
ing fingers.  They  were  a  hard-looking  set,  and 
though  ragged  they  had  all  the  appearance  of 
ruthless  self-assurance  that  marks  the  desperado. 
Meanwhile,  the  two  attendants  who  had  come 
aboard  with  our  prisoner  were  being  silently  and 
most  efficiently  bound  up  by  our  crouching  crew. 

"Ask  them,"  said  Captain  Hawks  to  Cap- 
tain Esterkay,  "what  they  want,  who  they  are, 
and  by  what  right  they  board  my  ship?" 

Captain  Esterkay  turned  to  the  wharf.  Mean- 
while the  yells  and  thumps  from  within  the 
locker  continued.  Captain  Esterkay  finished 
speaking  and  a  man  on  the  wharf  made  reply. 
He  was  apparently  second  in  command,  and  he 
seemed  both  surprised  and  angry. 

"He  says,"  interpreted  Captain  Esterkay, 
who  was  now  as  bland  and  as  unruffled  as  ever, 
—  "he  says  that  it  is  on  a  charge  of  murdering 
Massingbird  that  they  wish  to  arrest  Grummet; 
that  they  represent  the  Rio  Maranon  Rubber 
Company,  which  company  holds  itself  respon- 
sible for  the  law  and  order  — the  law  and  order, 
Matthew  —  of  this  forgotten  country;  and  I 
gather  that  the  gentleman  inside  the  locker  is 
some  one  of  considerable  importance,  though  I 
did  n't  catch  his  name.  They  say  that  unless 
we  let  out  their  commander,  and  that  quick  too, 
they  will  come  aboard  and  arrest  the  ship." 


THE  CONNOR  RETREATS        195 

"Ask  'em,"  said  Captain  Hawks,  "to  come 
right  aboard  and  do  so  —  if  they  can." 

"You  mean  it,  Matthew?"  enquired  Captain 
Esterkay  calmly;  "just  remember  who  you  are 
dealing  with." 

"Go  ahead,  Alexander." 

And  Captain  Esterkay  turned  to  the  men  on 
the  wharf. 

"All  the  men  aboard?"  asked  the  captain 
while  Captain  Esterkay  was  speaking,  and  as  it 
happened  to  be  the  dinner  hour  they  were. 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  answered,  "all  hands  aboard." 

"Steam?"  asked  Captain  Hawks,  and  Mr. 
McLushley,  who  stood  smiling  sardonically  in 
the  background,  answered  softly:  "Drawn  fires. 
Steam  in  an  hour's  time,  not  less,"  and  vanished, 
taking  his  three  engineers  with  him  and  the 
stoke-hold  watch. 

The  effect  of  what  Captain  Esterkay  said  was 
visible.  The  men  on  the  wharf  started  promptly 
looking  for  some  method  of  boarding  the  ship. 
There  was  nothing  backward  about  those  men. 

"Ask  them,"  said  Captain  Hawks,  "whether 
they  would  like  their  commander  now,  or  if  they 
would  like  to  wait  until  they  get  him." 

"Hush,  Matthew,  don't  yo'  make  bad  worse. 
The  shootin*  '11  start  quick  enough." 

"Cast  off  those  shore  lines,"  said  the  captain 
to  me;  "  you  will  have  to  cut  them.  If  any  one 


196  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

on  the  wharf  draws  a  bead  on  you  while  you  are 
doing  so  I'll  drop  him  in  his  tracks." 

I  jumped  at  his  bidding  and  with  me  jumped 
the  happy  crew,  who  were  deeply  pleased  with 
everything,  especially  the  prospect  of  a  quite 
uncommon  scrap.  And  meanwhile  the  gentle- 
man in  the  lamp  locker  had  almost,  but  not 
quite,  screeched  himself  voiceless. 

I  have  already  explained  that,  fearing  the 
wharf  was  not  adequate  to  hold  the  ship,  I  had 
sent  out  a  kedge  to  prevent  us  from  pressing 
too  hard  against  the  wharf.  This  kedge,  there- 
fore, was  some  distance  out  in  the  river.  The 
moment  that  the  shore  lines  were  parted  the 
winch  was  set  going,  and  the  ship  glided  out 
and  put  a  good  ten  yards  between  herself  and 
the  wharf  when  we  let  go  the  port  anchor.  We 
were  now,  practically  speaking,  impregnable  to 
anything  short  of  artillery,  for  we  were  like  a 
castle  surrounded  by  a  moat,  and  the  moat  hi 
our  case  swamped  with  alligators  and  a  particu- 
lar kind  of  fish  that  was  more  ferocious  than  a 
rattlesnake. 

"I  guess  we  can  come  to  terms,"  said  the  cap- 
tain with  a  grin,  and  threw  open  the  door  of  the 
lamp  locker. 

The  man  inside  was  now  silent.  A  colossal 
pride  of  office,  a  soured,  acid,  and  peevish  tem- 
per had  been  violently  outraged  in  a  tropical 


THE  CONNOR  RETREATS        197 

climate,  and  the  man  looked  shattered,  as  though 
by  an  illness. 

"Snakes!"  exclaimed  the  captain,  with  sur- 
prise; "say,  Alexander,  ask  him  to  step  out  and 
come  to  the  cabin  where  we  can  talk  this  matter 
over." 

And  a  moment  later  the  three  men  disap- 
peared from  view. 

"Better  unlash  those  two  men,"  said  I;  and 
the  two  disarmed  men  were  set  free. 

Meanwhile  the  men  upon  the  wharf  had  gath- 
ered into  a  bunch  and  were  evidently  holding 
a  council  of  war.  I  watched  them  carefully.  For 
though  it  was  not  likely  that  they  would  fire 
upon  us  while  their  commander  and  two  of  their 
number  were  still  our  prisoners,  they  might; 
and  I  sent  Wilfred  for  his  revolver,  for  Wilfred 
was  next  thing  to  a  miracle  with  a  gun. 

"If  any  man  there  shoots  at  us,"  said  I,  "let 
him  have  it." 

"I  will!"  answered  the  cook  with  great  gusto, 
proceeding  to  load  his  forty-four  Smith  and  Wes- 
son in  a  manner  that  bordered  upon  sleight  of 
hand. 

The  little  man  then  sat  himself  upon  a  bollard 
and  watched  the  wharf  intently,  longingly,  and 
—  cheerfully,  whistling  softly  — 

"  We  don't  want  to  lose  you, 
But  we  think  you  ought  to  go!" 


198  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

There  then  passed  a  period  of  waiting,  the 
engineers  and  the  stokers  alone  being  busy.  The 
men  on  the  wharf  were  joined  by  the  thin, 
stooping  figure  of  Eichholz,  who  waved  his  hand 
to  me  with  an  impartial  gesture,  as  though  he 
wished  to  demonstrate  that  he,  personally,  had 
nothing  to  do  with  this  trouble,  and  I  waved 
back  friendlily  to  him.  I  had  a  liking  for  Eich- 
holz, he  was  so  intelligent,  and  he  was  a  pic- 
turesque figure  in  a  drab  world  of  mediocre 
villains.  The  time  dragged  on,  and  Eichholz 
got  himself  into  a  dugout  and  letting  down  the 
ladder,  I  awaited  his  coming.  He  climbed  aboard 
and  shook  hands  with  me. 

"This  is  bad,"  said  he,  gazing  vaguely  about 
the  ship  and  hardly  looking  at  me;  "I'm  afraid 
that  you  are  in  for  real  serious  trouble.  You  are 
a  very  long  way  from  Para,"  he  added.  And 
then,  after  a  pause,  he  continued,  "I  have  just 
received  orders  per  the  Maranon  boat  not  to 
supply  you  with  your  return  cargo.  This,  in 
itself,  means  a  heavy  financial  loss  —  to  return 
with  an  empty  ship." 

"But  are  agreements  not  worth  the  paper 
they  are  written  on?"  I  asked.  "The  return 
cargo  was  guaranteed." 

"Nothing 's  guaranteed  here.  Nothing  —  life 
—  property  —  or"  — and  his  face  twisted  sud- 
denly —  "honour." 


THE  CONNOR  RETREATS        199 

It  was  on  the  end  of  my  tongue  to  exclaim, 
"Skittles!"  but  I  refrained,  for  the  man's  man- 
ner was  impressive,  and  quite  suddenly  I  had 
an  inspiration.  "Why,"  I  asked,  "do  you  stay 
here,  Eichholz?"  And  to  my  simple  question 
he  turned  upon  me  a  startled  gaze. 

"Why?"  he  asked,  as  though  my  question 
had  been  most  extraordinary,  "why?  Because 
I  can't  get  away,  of  course!" 

"Can't  get  away?"  I  repeated;  "what  d'you 
mean?" 

"Can't  get  away;  can't  do  it.  They  have  got 
me  tight!"  he  said.  And  just  then  Captain 
Hawks  came  striding  out  of  the  cabin  onto  the 
main-deck  followed  by  our  erstwhile  prisoner. 
They  stood  for  a  moment  by  the  bulwarks  while 
the  stout  man  hailed  his  men  upon  the  wharf. 
The  men  answered,  and  then,  rather  reluctantly, 
they  re-embarked  in  their  boats  and  started 
back  to  their  river  steamer.  Captain  Hawks 
crossed  the  deck  and  shook  hands  with  Eichholz 
and  invited  him  into  the  cabin,  and  with  a  nod 
to  me  Eichholz  followed  the  captain  and  the 
stout  representative  of  the  Rio  Maranon  Com- 
pany. 

"This  'ere,"  remarked  Wilfred,  now  relieved 
from  his  position  on  guard  by  the  departure  of 
the  men  from  the  wharf,  "is  jes*  a  bloomin' 
frorst,  thet's  what  it  is!  I  thought  there  was 


200  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

goin'  ter  be  a  reel  how-d '-y'-do  an'  instead  it's 
turned  out  a  sort  of  Hague  Peace  Conference. 
Lot  o'  silly  rot,  I  calls  it.  Presumably,  Mr. 
Mate,  I  can  retire,  since  them  flat-'eads  is  gone?  " 

"You  can,"  said  I,  grinning  at  the  little  man's 
huge  disgust. 

"All  I  can  say,"  he  remarked  over  his  thin 
shoulder,  as  he  strolled  off,  "is,  that  if  any  bloke 
shut  me  up  in  a  lamp  locker  there 'd  be  trouble 
f er  some  one  when  I  got  out.  I  would  n't  take 
it  sweet  an'  kind  like  our  friend  Willy  in  the 
cabin.  An'  as  fer  'is  crowd  thet  was  on  the 
wharf,  if  I  'd  been  them  I  would  n't  'ave  jes* 
stood  theer  and  spat  in  the  water,  no,  I  would 
n't!"  And  the  little  cook  went  off  with  a  dis- 
gusted and  contemptuous  glance  at  the  two 
boatloads  of  men  that  were  now  nearing  their 
ship. 

"Ain't  there  goin'  to  be  no  scrap,  sir?" 
breathed  a  man  deferentially  in  my  ear.  "  Can't 
we  go  across  an'  wreck  their  mud-pusher?  " 

"No,  you  can't,"  I  answered,  in  no  uncertain 
tone;  "you'll  stay  aboard,  every  mother's  son 
of  you." 

What  was  going  on  in  the  cabin  I  did  not 
know,  but  there  seemed  to  be  a  deadlock,  and 
there  then  fell  one  of  those  trying  times  of  idle- 
ness when  anything  can  happen  and  when  there 
is  nothing  to  do.  As  night  came  on  I  wandered 


THE  CONNOR  RETREATS        201 

about  the  ship  restlessly  watching  the  settle- 
ment twinkle  into  being,  and  the  river  boat  il- 
lumine herself  garishly  with  oil  lamps  that  cast 
out  long,  streaming  reflections,  and  then,  quite 
suddenly,  the  conference  in  the  cabin  appar- 
ently grew  acute.  Loud  voices  raised  in  anger 
came  from  the  four  men  within  as  though  they 
had  all  lost  their  tempers  together,  and  Wilfred, 
in  his  galley,  laughed. 

"Like  a  bloomin'  monkey  house!"  he  com- 
mented. 

Then  the  voices  fell  again  and  we  continued 
our  restless  waiting.  Some  Indians  put  out 
from  the  bank  in  dugouts  and  canoes  to  fish,  as 
they  did  every  evening;  I  counted  six,  and  hav- 
ing nothing  else  to  do  I  leaned  upon  the  rail  and 
idly  watched  them  in  the  gathering  gloom  slid- 
ing noiselessly  over  the  lead-coloured  surface 
of  the  river.  And  then,  imperceptibly,  the  six 
canoes  became  seven,  and  where  or  how  they 
were  joined  by  the  seventh  I  could  not  tell.  I 
counted  them  afresh,  for  it  was  something  to  do, 
and  discovered  that  there  were  eight.  I  puzzled 
in  a  half-interested  fashion  over  this  incident, 
and  counting  them  again  I  found  that  there  were 
ten.  I  became  interested  then.  You  must  re- 
member that  the  light  was  almost  gone,  but  that 
the  surface  of  the  river  reflected  the  sky,  and 
was  still  a  luminous  expanse,  fading  toward  the 


202  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

other  bank,  and  each  canoe  floated  upon  its 
perfect  reflection.  Moreover,  when  they  chanced 
to  come  together,  it  was  not  easy  to  distinguish 
them,  and  they  became  one  dark  mass.  Yet  this 
mysterious  process  of  addition  went  on;  and 
at  last,  thoroughly  puzzled,  I  called  Timothy 
Hanks. 

"How  many  canoes  do  you  see  there?"  I 
asked  him,  and  he  counted  them  with  difficulty 
owing  to  the  rapidly  failing  light. 

"Eighteen,  I  make  it,"  said  he. 

"Now,  d'  you  mind  counting  them  again?"  I 
asked,  and  he  did  so. 

"Say!"  he  exclaimed,  "what's  the  matter 
with  me!  There's  twenty-five  now!  Some  must 
have  come  down  a  creek  to  one  side,  but  I  did  n't 
see  'em  arrive!" 

"And  now  there's  thirty-three,"  said  I. 

"No,  forty!  My!  My!  Those  canoes  seem  to 
come  just  the  way  the  Apaches  were  said  to 
show  up  in  the  old  days  in  the  West!  One  min- 
ute there  was  an  empty  landscape,  and  the  next 
the  place  was  full  of  'em.  Now,  ain't  that  just 
remarkable?  " 

The  river  steamer  was  lit  like  a  theatre  and 
was  a  spot  of  brilliance  in  the  deepening  night. 
There  came  from  her  the  multitudinous  Babel 
of  many  voices,  and  through  an  open  doorway 
upon  her  upper  deck  we  could  see  four  men 


THE  CONNOR  RETREATS        203 

seated  at  cards.  The  canoes  drifted  down- 
stream, silent  and  ghostlike,  some  passing  on 
the  far  side  of  the  river  steamer,  others  drifting 
down  between  the  two  vessels,  and  from  among 
these  last  one  canoe  detached  itself  and  came 
with  sudden  swiftness  toward  us.  I  cannot  tell 
what  was  the  precise  difference  between  that 
canoe  and  the  many  others  which  we  had  seen 
at  intervals  on  our  journey  up-stream,  but  a 
difference  there  was,  a  difference  that  at  once 
caught  my  attention  and  held  it.  As  an  artist 
will  regard  a  foreign  painting  with  understand- 
ing discrimination,  so  will  the  sailor  observe  the 
handling  and  character  of  a  strange  craft.  That 
canoe  was  longer,  more  narrow  than  those  we 
had  seen  the  river  Indians  using,  and  the  man- 
ner in  which  that  canoe  was  handled  was  some- 
thing of  a  revelation.  And  at  the  approach  of 
that  canoe,  Maryjane,  our  one-legged  patient, 
now  hopping  about  with  the  aid  of  a  crutch  (he 
could  not  as  yet  bear  his  stump  upon  a  peg), 
showed  sudden  signs  of  great  excitement  not 
unmixed  with  fear.  It  was  then  that  I  began 
to  have  an  inkling  of  who  and  what  those  In- 
dians were,  and  I  confess  to  an  unpleasant  catch 
of  the  breath.  The  canoe  came  sweeping  along- 
side with  an  elegant  ease  that  was  good  to  be- 
hold, and  leaning  out  over  the  bulwarks  I  stared 
down  into  her  and  beheld  three  naked  men  at 


204  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

the  paddles,  while  a  fourth,  a  fine,  slim  speci- 
men, stood  up  in  an  attitude  full  of  grace,  hold- 
ing aloft  at  arm's  length  a  stick.  In  a  cleft  in  the 
end  of  the  stick  was  a  piece  of  folded  paper.  He 
thrust  it  at  me  without  a  word,  and  to  take  the 
paper  thus  offered  was  a  natural  impulse. 

"Who  are  you  from?"  I  asked,  but  without 
answer  of  any  kind  the  canoe  shot  off  silently, 
like  a  fish,  into  the  night. 

I  took  the  paper  into  the  light  of  the  alleyway 
and  found  it  to  be  a  page  torn  out  of  a  pocket 
diary,  for  at  the  top  was  a  printed  date  some  two 
years  old.  The  paper  was  folded,  and  as  the 
sender  seemingly  had  no  envelope  the  address 
was  written  on  the  paper  itself  and  the  message 
was  directed  to  "The  Master  of  the  American 
ship  now  at  Maloca."  That  was  all. 

I  felt  that  this  was  a  matter  of  importance, 
and  so  I  put  my  head  into  the  main  cabin,  the 
door  of  which  was  open  like  all  doors  in  the  ship 
for  better  ventilation,  and  I  found  therein  some 
kind  of  crisis.  The  occupants  had  risen  to  their 
feet,  and  I  discovered  them  in  various  attitudes 
about  the  table.  The  captain  leaned  upon  his 
arms,  his  hands  spread  out  upon  the  table, 
frowning  across  at  our  erstwhile  prisoner,  who, 
with  folded  arms  and  head  thrown  back,  exhib- 
ited (I  could  not  help  but  think  it,  consid- 
ering his  circumstances)  a  rather  gallant  defi- 


THE  CONNOR  RETREATS        205 

ance.  Captain  Esterkay,  with  a  worried,  pained 
expression  upon  his  usually  urbane  features, 
was  absently  searching  himself  for  a  cigar;  while 
Eichholz,  his  high,  narrow  forehead  corrugated 
with  parallel  lines,  gazed  sorrowfully  at  the 
middle  of  the  table.  It  was  ridiculously  like  a 
scene  from  some  rather  cheap  melodrama,  yet 
its  intensity  was  obvious  and  I  positively  feared 
the  interruption  I  should  cause,  for  it  was  plain 
to  the  dullest  that  death  lurked  just  round  the 
corner,  and  any  interruption  might  hasten  its 
coming.  Then  the  captain  caught  sight  of  me  in 
the  doorway  and  the  spell  was  broken. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked,  and  the  four  men 
about  the  table  moved,  came  out  of  their  atti- 
tudes as  it  were,  as  people  do  after  standing  to 
be  photographed. 

"Can  I  have  a  word  with  you,  sir?"  I  asked, 
and  the  captain  nodded  and  joined  me  in  the 
alleyway.  I  gave  him  the  note,  and  he  read  the 
inscription  half  aloud,  and  then  unfolding  the 
message  he  glanced  at  the  bottom  for  the  sig- 
nature of  the  sender.  As  he  did  so  he  slapped 
his  thigh  with  a  crack  like  a  pistol  and  twisted 
the  paper  round  for  me  to  see. 

I  read:  "  Yours  faithfully,  Ezra  Calvin." 

"When  and  how  did  this  come?"  asked  Cap- 
tain Hawks,  and  while  I  told  him  he  swept  his 
eyes  through  the  letter,  then  returned  to  the 


206  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

beginning  and  read  it  slowly,  thoughtfully,  with 
wide  eyes  of  acute  interest.  Having  finished 
reading  it  a  second  time  he  looked  at  me  with 
tremendous  animation  in  his  expression,  an 
animation  that  was  so  exultant  that  I  felt  that 
had  he  not  been  a  man  possessing  great  self- 
control  he  would  have  shouted.  Then  he  read 
the  note  a  third  time  with  slow  deliberation. 
Then,  putting  it  away  in  his  pocket  with  care,  he 
stood  a  moment  in  thought. 

"Have  all  ready  to  up  anchor  in  ten  minutes' 
time,"  said  he,  suddenly,  briskly,  and  turned 
back  to  the  cabin.  As  I  hurried  off  I  heard  his 
voice  raised  loudly,  ringingly,  as  though  offer- 
ing an  ultimatum. 

The  night  was  now  fully  arrived,  and  with  it 
had  come  a  high  fog  that  obscured  the  stars 
and  it  was  very  dark.  Considering  the  narrow- 
ness of  the  river,  to  move  at  all  from  anchor 
was  a  form  of  lunacy  difficult  to  name,  but  orders 
are  orders,  and  I  at  once  sent  word  of  warning 
to  Mr.  McLushley.  I  spoke  to  the  chief  myself 
through  the  charthouse  tube. 

"Intends  to  get  under  weigh  now?"  enquired 
the  Scotchman,  —  and  I  could  hear  his  aston- 
ished voice  echoing  in  his  silent  engine-room, 
-"man,  he's  daft!" 

I  then  hauled  short  on  the  cable,  and  the 
noise  of  the  steam  capstan  seemed  terrific  in 


THE   CONNOR  RETREATS        207 

that  still  night  and  brought  about  a  sudden 
activity  on  board  the  river  boat  which  promptly 
hailed  us  in  some  form  of  Spanish.  They  thought, 
perhaps,  that  we  were  going  to  run  off  with 
their  valuable  commander. 

"Speak  English!"  I  shouted  back,  but  after 
once  hailing  they  were  silent. 

Captain  Hawks,  followed  by  the  others,  came 
out  of  the  cabin,  and  the  representative  of  the 
Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Company  hailed  his  river 
steamer,  which  at  once  put  off  a  boat  with  all 
the  clatter  and  fuss  of  the  landsman  when  deal- 
ing with  the  water,  be  it  in  rowing  boats  or 
yachts.  The  stout  man  then  went  down  the 
ladder  I  lowered  for  him,  followed  by  the  two 
men  who  had  accompanied  him  aboard.  He 
said  never  a  word,  and  he  carried  off  this  igno- 
minious proceeding  with  his  head  up,  whereat 
we  all  thought  the  better  of  him.  We  had,  ap- 
parently, refused  to  be  arrested! 

Then  Eichholz  said  farewell,  and  I  recollect 
that  I  was  sorry  to  see  him  go,  for  I  was  still 
longing  to  know  just  why  he  could  *not  leave 
Maloca  and  in  what  way  the  Rio  Maranon  held 
huii  so  tight.  And  the  moment  he  had  gone 
every  light  went  out  in  the  ship,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  those  in  the  engine-room,  one  of  the  en- 
gineers himself  covering  the  skylights  with  a 
tarpaulin.  They  must  have  suffered  consider- 


208  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

ably  from  the  heat  so  caused,  but  they  made 
no  complaints.  For  every  one  in  the  ship  was 
aware  of  the  captain's  intention  of  getting  under 
weigh,  and  what  I  might  describe  as  a  strain 
of  exhilarating  madness  went  through  every  man 
aboard,  giving  each  a  stealthy  energy.  Those 
were  fine  moments! 

"Let  that  kedge  go,"  came  the  captain's  quiet 
voice  from  the  invisible  bridge,  "and  up  with 
your  anchor,  Grummet." 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!"  I  answered,  and  the  roaring 
of  the  capstan  drowned  all  other  sounds  for  some 
moments. 

"All  clear,  sir!"  I  called. 

It  was  an  odd  experience  and  will  remain 
vividly  in  my  mind,  the  experience  of  getting 
an  unlit  steamer  from  her  anchorage  and  pro- 
ceeding up  an  unlit  river  a  thousand  miles  from 
the  sea  in  a  darkness  that  you  could  positively 
feel.  The  wildest  excitement  prevailed  upon  the 
river  boat,  and  for  a  moment  they  were  of  a 
mind  to  follow  us.  But  they  gave  up  the  at- 
tempt, and  contented  themselves  with  shooting 
at  where  they  judged  us  to  be  from  the  sound 
of  the  engines  and  the  noise  that  the  slow-moving 
propeller  made  hi  the  water.  The  bullets  sang 
merrily  about  us,  or  hit  the  ship  with  loud, 
ringing  reports  when  they  hit  iron  or  with  sharp 
thuds  if  they  encountered  rare  wood.  But  they 


THE  CONNOR  RETREATS        209 

had  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  we  intended 
going  down-stream,  and  so  we  moved,  in  time, 
out  of  the  area  of  their  fire,  though  it  was  not 
until  some  minutes  had  passed,  and  during  those 
minutes  it  was  not  altogether  pleasant. 

Standing  right  in  the  bows  I  stared  ahead,  but 
stare  as  I  would  I  could  make  nothing  of  the 
darkness.  I  knew  by  the  feel  of  the  ship  that  the 
captain  was  groping  his  way  as  a  man  gropes 
with  outstretched  arms  in  a  dark  room.  Not  a 
voice  was  raised  above  a  whisper,  that  all  orders 
from  the  bridge  might  be  instantly  heard,  and 
the  men,  cheerfully  subdued,  went  about  with 
bare  feet,  active,  eager,  and  happy.  There  was 
only  the  throb  of  the  engines  going  dead  slow. 

One  by  one  the  scattered  lights  of  Maloca 
disappeared,  obscured  suddenly  by  intervening 
masses  of  foliage.  It  was  a  period  of  suspense, 
and  my  eyes,  strained  and  staring,  peopled  the 
night  with  phantoms. 

"Can  you  see  anything  at  all,  Grummet?" 
came  Captain  Hawks's  voice  from  the  bridge, 
raised  just  enough  to  carry,  and  with  a  calm, 
unhurried  utterance. 

"Nothing  much,  sir,  I  answered,  —  "twenty 
yards  at  most." 

The  lights  of  the  settlement  had  now  van- 
ished; the  night  closed  in  upon  us  with  palpa- 
ble intensity,  and  an  instinctive  habit  long 


210  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

acquired  afforded  me  a  mental  chart  of  our  prog- 
ress. 

The  engine-room  bell  clattered  loudly,  and 
the  vibration  of  the  engines  ceased,  followed  by 
a  great  aching  stillness.  The  time  passed,  — 
how  long  I  could  not  tell,  —  and  again  the  bell 
clattered  its  emphatic  command,  and  there  fol- 
lowed a  deep  rumbling  as  though  of  distant 
thunder  as  the  propeller  bit  the  water.  We  were 
going  astern.  The  lookout  man  at  my  side 
breathed  a  word  or  two  of  astonishment  and  I 
felt  that  we  were  turning.  Again  came  the  en- 
gine-room gong,  —  rat-a-tang-tang-tang-tang  — 
tang,  —  and  the  engines  paused  a  moment,  then 
continued  in  a  different  strain. 

"  Going  ahead  now ! "  whispered  the  man  at  my 
side,  while  I  waited  filled  with  that  horrid  dread 
all  sailors  know,  the  dread  of  impact.  But  no 
impact  came,  and  I  marvelled  dumbly  at  a  man 
who  could  twist  a  ship  about  in  this  fashion,  and 
yet  again  the  engine-room  bell  rang  out.  The 
lookout  man  panted  audibly. 

"Shut  your  breathing!"  I  whispered,  and  the 
man,  with  a  gulp,  was  silent.  We  were  going  full 
ahead,  and  gradually  our  stern  way  died.  There 
came  a  draught  upon  my  face  and  the  soft,  silken 
rustle  of  the  parting  water  far  down  beneath  me, 
while  the  lookout  man  and  myself  were  stricken 
with  the  helplessness  of  the  blind. 


THE   CONNOR  RETREATS        211 

The  stream  of  warm,  damp  air,  laden  with 
forest  smells,  increased  against  our  faces.  A 
violent  splashing,  from  some  large  and  startled 
creature,  —  probably  an  alligator,  —  came  from 
our  port  hand,  and  following  an  old  practice  I 
gazed  upward,  low  in  the  sky,  knowing  that  the 
best  way  to  see  things  on  a  dark  night  is  never 
to  look  directly  at  them.  We  continued  thus  for 
some  very  long  minutes  and  then  rang  down  to 
"dead  slow."  The  night  was  vast  and  vague 
and  featureless;  at  times  it  seemed  to  close  about 
us  like  velvet  curtains;  at  others  it  seemed  to 
recede  unfathomably  remote,  and  we  moved  in 
the  emptiness  of  space.  This  sensation  of  ap- 
proaching and  receding  is  a  common  experience 
of  strained  eyes,  and  requires  discrimination  and 
experience  to  decide  between  phantom  and  real- 
ity. We  struck  some  floating  mass,  and  the  look- 
out man  and  I  gulped  in  our  efforts  to  restrain 
our  voices:  then,  unmistakeably,  there  loomed 
before  and  over  us  a  great  blackness.  We  yelled 
a  warning  in  chorus  as  there  came  a  rending  and 
crashing  of  tree  branches,  and  next  moment  the 
lookout  man  and  myself  were  flung  violently  to 
the  deck! 

I  was  up  again  in  an  instant,  only  to  bring  my 
head  with  a  nasty  crack  against  something  above 
me.  The  experience  was  startling,  for  living 
hands  seemed  to  clutch  me  from  all  sides.  The 


212  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

ship  was  backing  away  and  suddenly  we  were 
free,  when  the  captain's  cool  and  collected  tone 
came  calmly  through  the  night. 

"All  right,  Grummet?"  he  enquired. 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  replied,  my  hands  to  my  singing 
head. 

"Ship  trying  to  climb  a  tree,"  was  his  smooth 
reply  that  had  in  it  a  trace  of  laughter,  and  again 
the  engine-room  bell  clattered. 

"If  any  one  had  told  me  of  this,"  I  thought, 
"  I  would  have  said  that  it  was  impossible.  Why, 
he  can't  see  the  bows  from  the  bridge,  and  this 
in  a  river!" 

Seven  times  in  the  next  hour  did  Captain 
Matthew  Hawks,  one  of  the  most  skilled  naviga- 
tors and  efficient  of  sailors,  put  his  ship  aground, 
and  seven  times,  by  a  miracle,  we  got  off.  Tree 
branches  raked  the  forecastle-head,  and  the  look- 
out man  and  I  had  a  lively  time,  never  know- 
ing at  what  instant  and  from  what  direction  we 
should  be  brained  as  though  by  a  club.  Under 
these  conditions  it  was  no  longer  humanly  pos- 
sible to  be  silent.  Human  intercourse  was  nec- 
essary between  us,  and  what  we  said  to  each 
other  need  not  be  recorded  against  us.  And  then 
the  bows  took  something  soft  and  gently  resist- 
ing, mounted  upwards,  and  the  ship  came  to  a 
stop. 

"Done  it  this  time,"  came  the  captain's  com- 


THE  CONNOR  RETREATS        213 

ment  through  the  dark,  "guess  I'll  wait  for  day- 
light." 

"Guess  we  will,"  remarked  the  man  at  my 
side,  and  though  his  tone  was  low  it  was  em- 
phatic. 

The  cabin  lights  were  turned  on,  and  when  I 
came  aft  Wilf red  caught  sight  of  me  and  cackled 
unfeelingly  with  merriment. 

"  'Ello!"  said  he,  "Grummet's  been  ashore!" 

The  first  grey  suggestion  of  dawn  revealed  us 
with  our  bows  embowered  in  leafage,  and  five 
monkeys  perched  wonderingly  upon  the  rail. 
This  in  an  ocean-going  ship! 

"We  live  and  learn,"  remarked  the  captain; 
"guess  I  was  a  child  before  I  struck  this  country." 

"  Yo'  have  struck  it  too,  Matthew,"  said  Cap- 
tain Esterkay  placidly,  a  before-breakfast  cigar 
between  his  lips.  "Did  yo'  think  this  hooker  was 
an  airship?" 

"And  six  months  ago,"  continued  Captain 
Hawks,  "I'd  'most  have  cried  if  I  had  put  my 
ship  ashore.  Now  I  am  only  wondering  what 
we'll  have  for  breakfast!" 

"It's  climate,  sir,"  said  I.  "There  are  five 
monkeys  on  the  forecastle-head;  I  should  n't  be 
surprised  to  find  an  alligator  snoring  in  my  bunk. 
In  fact,  I  shan't  be  surprised  again  at  anything 
as  long  as  I  live.  Shall  I  be  getting  out  a  kedge 
astern,  sir?" 


214  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

The  captain  nodded.  "The  Old  Man  put  her 
away  and  I  got  her  off,  eh,  Mr.  Mate?"  said  he, 
smiling.  "  I  remember  saying  that  in  my  younger 
days.  Ah,  there's  breakfast." 

Before  sunrise  the  ship  came  off  the  mud  with 
a  great  clatter  of  winches,  which  caused  some  irri- 
tation among  at  least  a  dozen  alligators  that  had 
come  to  anchor  round  her  bows,  and  we  pro- 
ceeded up-stream. 

And  the  matter  of  alligators  and  game  gen- 
erally now  attracted  our  attention.  The  country 
was  positively  swarming  with  life,  while  the  forest 
at  night  was  in  a  continuous  uproar  that  was 
most  impressive.  Throughout  that  day  we  con- 
tinued up-stream,  the  river  becoming  more 
narrow,  but  remaining  extraordinarily  deep  and 
often  winding  most  abruptly.  We  were  now  in 
genuinely  unexplored  country,  which  fact  was 
not  a  little  impressive,  for  we  never  knew  what 
a  bend  in  the  river  might  reveal. 

For  three  days  we  continued,  and  the  condi- 
tions surrounding  us  seemed  to  change  with 
every  mile  of  progress.  We  were  getting  out  of 
that  evil  valley  of  the  Amazon,  which  had  had 
an  indescribable  effect  upon  us  all.  The  land  lay 
no  longer  a  stagnant  swamp,  but  undulated  with 
hills  that  grew  higher  and  steeper  in  the  west. 
After  three  days'  journeying  the  captain  took 
the  ship's  position,  and  some  two  hours  later  he 


THE   CONNOR  RETREATS        215 

blew  a  prolonged  blast  upon  the  whistle.  Fancy 
pictured  that  strange  sound,  bursting  for  the 
first  time  upon  the  ears  of  the  forest  and  startling 
the  very  trees.  And  so  wild  and  untouched  was 
this  country  that  one  could  almost  picture  a 
combined  attack  upon  us  by  an  army  of  wild 
creatures  amazed  at  our  preposterous  arrival. 
For  it  must  be  remembered  that  we  were  actually 
exploring  in  a  seagoing  ship. 

We  whistled  long  and  painfully  throughout 
the  day  at  intervals  and  the  sound  must  have 
carried  far,  and  when  we  anchored  that  night  we 
got  the  searchlight  going.  I  think,  when  I  was 
cataloguing  the  various  conveniences  of  the  ship, 
that  I  have  spoken  of  this  light  upon  the  bridge. 
It  was  not,  of  course,  a  light  such  as  is  carried 
by  men-o'-war,  but  was  powerful  enough,  and 
one  such  as  is  carried  by  well-found  commercial 
vessels  to  assist  in  loading  cargo  in  unfrequented 
ports.  This  machine,  being  a  deck-fitting,  fell 
under  my  charge,  with  all  the  rest.  But  as  not 
only  man  himself  suffers  woefully  in  that  sinis- 
ter climate  of  the  Amazon,  but  all  man-made 
things,  I  had  come  to  an  arrangement  with  Mr. 
McLushley,  who  knew  all  there  was  to  know 
about  the  bad  effect  of  tropical  climates  on  com- 
plicated mechanisms.  The  result  was  that  you 
could  not  put  your  hand  anywhere  without  en- 
countering a  particularly  greasy  kind  of  grease, 


216  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

which  was  stuck  about  with  dead  or  still  strug- 
gling insects  of  all  sizes  and  of  variously  poison- 
ous natures.  Therefore,  though  the  searchlight 
had  not  been  used  for  a  long  time,  it  was  in  full 
working  order  as  soon  as  the  hood  was  removed, 
its  universal  joints  working  smoothly,  and  with  a 
grating,  singing  hiss  the  long  shaft  of  cold  violet- 
white  light  sprang  into  being.  And  the  moving 
beam  as  it  swung  glittering  over  the  forest  was 
followed  by  terrific  crashes  or  ominous  silences. 

All  this  time  none  of  us  knew  what  was  coming 
or  what  to  expect. 

"This  is  a  wicked  country,"  remarked  the  cap- 
tain, shooting  a  pillar  of  light  up  into  the  sky  like 
a  gigantic  flagpole,  to  mark  our  position  for  miles 
round.  Up  went  that  line  of  light,  up  and  up, 
while  the  flying  insects  flashed  in  it  like  blowing 
snowflakes;  and  then,  for  a  time,  he  played  it 
upon  the  forest,  enjoying  the  consternation  it 
caused  amid  that  packed  world  of  venomous  and 
deadly  life. 

And  before  morning,  and  from  amid  that 
alarming  darkness,  the  ship  was  hailed,  hailed 
loudly,  by  an  American  voice! 


CHAPTER  X 

A   VOICE   FROM   THE   DARKNESS 

THE  night  was  exceedingly  dark  and  very  hot. 
To  southward  and  westward  the  lightning  pal- 
pitated angrily,  throwing  into  black  relief  the 
rounded  tops  of  the  trees  and  emphasising  the 
pit-like  blackness  of  the  river.  It  might  have 
been  the  cumulative  effect  of  the  climate,  but, 
on  that  night  in  particular,  I  recollect  feeling 
very  vividly  our  remoteness  and  isolation  from 
our  fellows.  Moreover,  our  departure  from 
Maloca,  our  present  destination,  which  the  cap- 
tain alone  knew,  and  the  problem  of  how  in  the 
world  we  were  to  return  through  such  a  land  of 
enemies,  gave  ample  food  for  thought.  I  did  not 
know  what  had  been  in  that  mysterious  note 
so  picturesquely  delivered  from  Colonel  Calvin. 
There  were  times  when  my  commander  would 
lay  his  plans  very  fully  before  me,  and  then 
again  there  were  times  when  I  knew  no  more 
than  any  stoker.  Still,  it  was  obvious  that  we 
were  now  in  actual  search  of  the  colonel,  and  the 
loss  of  the  stipulated  return  cargo  did  not  seem 
to  worry  Captain  Hawks.  The  little  ship 
hummed  cheerfully  with  the  sounds  of  human 
intercourse  —  snatches  of  song,  whistling  and 


218  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

laughter,  that  free,  ready  merriment  that  comes 
among  men  who  are  on  good  terms  with  one 
another  and  with  life  in  particular.  The  Martin 
Connor  was  a  happy  ship.  And  then,  in  a  mo- 
mentary pause  in  the  sounds  aboard,  and  from 
the  impenetrable  darkness  about  us,  came, 
without  warning,  a  loud,  strident,  human  voice! 
I  shall  never  forget  the  sound  of  that  voice  or  the 
effect  it  produced;  coming  as  it  did  it  set  the 
nerves  jangling  like  a  peal  of  alarm  bells,  and 
every  man  that  heard  it  did,  literally,  jump!  It 
was  a  rasping  human  bellow,  and  of  such  volume 
and  intensity  as  to  have  about  it  the  shocking 
quality  that  voices  have  in  dreams,  or  when  heard 
while  coming  out  from  under  an  anesthetic. 

"For  'Evink's  sake!"  piped  Wilfred  shrilly, 
running  out  of  his  "Office,"  while  Captain 
Hawks  shot  from  his  chair  and  ran  to  the  rail. 

"American  ship  ahoy!"  came  the  voice. 

"Ahoy!  Hoy!  Hoy!  Hoy!  Oy!  Oy  .  .  ."  re- 
peated the  echo  in  the  forest. 

"Hello!"  yelled  back  Captain  Hawks,  and  I 
could  hear  laughter  in  his  tone,  the  laughter  of 
pleasure. 

"Is  that  the  American  ship  that  was  at  Ma- 
loca?"  enquired  that  truly  staggering  voice. 

"Yes!"  answered  the  captain,  laughing  out- 
right, "don't  you  recognise  my  voice,  Ezra? 
There's  no  mistaking  yours!" 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    219 

"Matthew  Hawks!!"  was  the  answer,  and 
this  time,  raised  to  its  fullest  pitch,  that  voice 
seemed  to  shake  the  very  ship. 

There  was  a  powerful  light  arranged  upon  a 
gooseneck  forward  of  the  midship  structure  which 
we  used  when  working  cargo.  This  could  be 
taken  from  its  stepping,  and  with  a  length  of 
wire  could  be  carried  about  the  deck,  and  was 
switched  on  from  the  bridge.  I  turned  this  on, 
and  running  down  I  carried  the  light  to  the  side, 
while  others  threw  over  the  ladder.  Into  the 
radius  of  light  there  shot  a  canoe;  it  slid  over  the 
water  and  came  round  with  extreme  dexterity 
to  rest  by  the  ladder.  It  did  not  arrive  slowly 
with  diminishing  way;  it  arrived  full  speed  and 
stopped  dead. 

"That's  good!"  I  thought;  "that  takes  a  bit 
of  doing." 

In  the  canoe  were  five  practically  naked  men, 
and  the  strong,  uncompromising  light  I  held 
shone  upon  their  muscles,  their  skin  having  that 
beautiful  silklike  texture  which  the  human  com- 
plexion takes  when  permanently  exposed  to  the 
open  air.  The  man  in  the  bow  of  the  canoe  un- 
loaded himself  with  such  poise  and  balance  that 
the  frail  vessel  never  swayed,  and  he  started 
climbing  the  ladder.  He  came  up  like  some 
agile  ape,  and  I  stepped  back  and  to  one  side 
to  give  room  to  my  commander. 


220  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

When  Colonel  Ezra  Calvin  arrived,  and  I  lev- 
elled that  pitiless  light  upon  him,  he  presented  a 
picture  that,  for  a  moment,  struck  each  and  every 
one  dumb.  He  was  a  long,  lank,  gaunt  New 
Englander.  He  was  cleanly  shaved  as  though 
fresh  from  a  barber  and  getting  rather  bald 
on  the  top  of  his  head.  Had  you  seen  him  in  the 
ceremonious  costume  of  a  Chinese  mandarin,  or 
in  the  make-up  of  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  or  in 
the  sombre  garb  of  a  monk,  or  in  the  full-blown 
kit  of  a  British  field  marshal,  you  would  still 
have  had  no  vestige  of  doubt  that  he  came  from 
New  England.  And  when  he  first  burst  upon  our 
breathless  gaze  like  a  lantern  picture,  his  entire 
costume  was  a  sort  of  Masonic-apron-like  ar- 
rangement of  native  workmanship.  Yet  he  ap- 
peared the  very  heart  and  soul  of  prim  respec- 
tability, and  New  England  to  the  hilt! 

I  do  not  know  what  we  expected  to  see,  but 
I  do  know  that  we  did  not  expect  what  we  did 
see.  With  the  exception  of  the  captain  we  were 
all  temporarily  deprived  of  the  powers  of  speech. 
We  just  stood  there  and  gaped  at  the  incongru- 
ity of  the  man  and  his  costume.  For  a  white 
man,  who  has  been  living  with  savages,  in  some 
savage  costume  is  not  startling  as  a  rule,  for  he 
usually  takes  on  some  subtle  demeanour  of  the 
savage.  But  when  the  white  man  remains  a 
white  man  and  retains  all  the  Christian  virtues 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    221 

and  is  palpably  the  pink  of  all  respectability; 
then,  when  he  is  seen  in  an  almost  negligible 
native  costume,  you  behold  a  concatenation  of 
the  seemingly  impossible. 

Captain  Hawks  darted  forward,  and  those  two 
men  came  as  near  hugging  as  the  Anglo-Saxon 
will  allow  himself,  while  we,  as  I  have  said,  stood 
and  gaped.  Wilfred  broke  the  spell  by  retreat- 
ing hurriedly  with  imperfectly  concealed  mirth. 
As  for  myself  I  suffered  severely,  but  I  kept  a 
straight  face,  while,  at  the  captain's  introduc- 
tion, Colonel  Calvin  shook  me  by  the  hand  with 
the  ceremonious  solemnity  of  manner  befitting 
a  deacon  of  the  church.  Then  with  my  com- 
mander he  strode  away,  grave,  dignified,  en- 
tirely unabashed,  and  wholly  unself-consciously 
naked.  A  sense  of  humour  is  a  splendid  thing, 
but  it  is  trying  sometimes  to  possess  one.  I 
went  away  filled  to  the  brim  with  laughter,  but 
the  kind  of  laughter  that  filled  me  was  in  itself 
a  token  of  respect  to  that  extraordinary  man; 
it  was  the  laughter  that  any  amazing  incongruity 
affords,  and  I  state  most  emphatically  that  it 
was  not  at  the  colonel,  but  at  the  humour  of  the 
circumstances. 

In  a  very  short  time,  Ezra  Calvin  was  arrayed 
in  a  complete  outfit  of  clothing,  but  as  the  gar- 
ments were  made  originally  for  the  captain,  who, 
though  a  big  man,  was  not  so  tall  as  the  colonel, 


222  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

and  at  the  same  time  much  broader,  they  did 
not  fit  to  perfection;  but  that  did  not  matter. 

On  the  bridge  we  sat  for  most  of  that  night,  and 
I  do  not  think  that  I  have  ever  been  more  inter- 
ested. That  long,  angular  man,  with  his  remark- 
able voice  now  reduced  to  a  suitable  tone,  talked 
on  hour  after  hour  to  the  captain,  Captain  Es- 
terkay,  and  myself;  and  what  he  had  to  tell,  no 
less  than  the  manner  of  his  telling  it,  was  a  rich 
entertainment  to  the  listener. 

He  had  demonstrated  his  remarkable  person- 
ality from  the  first;  for  to  appear  as  he  had  ap- 
peared, attired  as  he  was  attired  amid  a  crowd 
of  waiting  men,  all  of  them  with  but  one  excep- 
tion total  strangers,  and  show  not  by  the  flicker 
of  an  eyelid  a  trace  of  nervousness  or  embarrass- 
ment, requires  no  small  measure  of  real  charac- 
ter. There  was  no  diffidence  in  the  man,  nor  was 
there  conceit;  he  was  entirely  sure  of  himself, 
not  in  a  boasting,  top-lofty  manner,  but  with  a 
placid,  unworried  knowledge  of  his  own  powers. 
Doubtless,  when  the  Rio  Maranon  Company  at 
length  forced  him  to  take  to  the  death-haunted 
jungle,  he  had  done  so  in  a  quietly  merry  mood, 
regarding  it  as  an  interesting  and  passing  experi- 
ence, when  any  other  man  would  have  decided 
that  he  went,  inevitably,  to  his  death.  All  the 
same,  the  colonel  had  had  a  very  bad  time,  about 
as  bad  a  time  as  even  he  could  stand. 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    223 

For  nearly  three  months  he  was  alone  in  the 
forest,  a  forest  infested  with  terrors  and  reduced, 
even  at  the  brightest  midday,  to  a  deep  sepul- 
chral gloom.  He  was  lost,  utterly  lost,  or  —  and 
he  admitted  it  —  he  would  willingly  have  given 
himself  up  after  six  weeks  and  chanced  the 
Rio  Maranon's  worst.  He  very  nearly  lost  his 
reason,  and  he  was  apparently  conscious  of  his 
tottering  mental  faculties,  for  he  described  viv- 
idly to  us  his  sensations  at  that  time.  It  was 
like,  so  he  said,  slipping  down  the  face  of  a  slope 
leading  to  a  precipice.  He  knew  that  he  was 
going  mad,  and  there  were  many  days  that  he 
did  not  remember.  The  clothes  that  he  escaped 
in  were  soon  torn  to  ribbons,  and  one  day,  when 
he  awoke  from  a  period  of  lost  memory,  he  found 
his  arms  and  ammunition  gone;  and  then,  indeed, 
things  looked  black  for  him.  But  even  then  he 
did  not  despair  —  not  quite. 

The  Blowgun  Indians  had  found  him  lying 
apparently  dead.  The  discovery,  for  them,  must 
have  been  remarkable,  for  there  was  no  indica- 
tion of  how  he  got  there.  Nevertheless,  he  was 
not  dead,  and  they  carried  him  home  with  them 
as  a  curiosity,  and  in  the  hands  of  people  reputed 
to  be  implacably  ferocious  and  cannibals  to 
boot,  his  amazing  constitution  recovered  itself 
bit  by  bit.  Gradually,  under  the  influence  of 
rest  and  frequent  feeding  his  body  mended  itself 


224  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

and  his  reason  gained  a  more  stable  equilibrium. 
He  no  longer  felt  the  appalling  sensation  of 
slipping  downwards  to  the  sheer  drop  of  insanity. 
Weeks  followed  weeks  and  he  was  a  long  time 
ill,  and  for  weeks  and  weeks  those  naked  heathen 
nursed  him  in  a  manner  no  Christian  could  have 
bettered.  But  one  need  not  be  a  Christian  to  be 
in  possession  of  a  rigorous  code  of  honour,  and 
the  colonel  found  that  he  was  as  safe  amid  the 
Blowgun  Indians  as  he  would  have  been  in  New 
York  or  London;  perhaps  even  safer,  since  here 
there  was  no  chance  of  being  run  over  or  robbed 
as  there  is  in  any  large  Christian  city!  He  was 
more  than  fed,  he  was  positively  stuffed  with 
food,  and  word  by  word  he  picked  up  a  few  frag- 
ments of  the  Indians'  speech.  He  could  speak 
their  language  now  with  some  ease,  for  he  pos- 
sessed the  linguistic  faculty.  Thus  he  was  able, 
before  long,  to  explain  to  the  Indians  his  precise 
position  and  they  were  interested.  They  found 
no  difficulty  in  grasping  what  he  said,  for  they 
were  of  a  high  order  of  intelligence.  They  were 
able  to  realise  that  he  was  of  a  tribe  foreign  to 
the  white  men  in  possession  of  the  main  Amazon 
stream  and  that  he  was  at  war  with  them.  Being 
a  man  of  wide  experience  gathered  from  all  over 
the  world,  the  colonel,  not  unnaturally,  was  able 
to  be  of  no  little  use  and  help  to  the  Indians;  yet 
the  New  Englander  made  no  blundering  assump- 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    225 

tion  of  superiority.  He  was  too  wise  a  man  to 
fail  in  realising  that  in  a  great  many  respects  he 
was  not  the  superior  of  the  Blowguns  in  their 
native  forests.  He  was  at  enormous  disadvan- 
tages, disadvantages  that  stripped  him  of  many 
of  the  privileges  of  being  a  white  man.  But  he 
set  himself  to  learn,  and  such  a  man  in  almost 
any  community  of  persons  would  naturally  rise 
to  a  position  of  importance.  He  discovered  that 
the  Indians  were,  without  doubt,  cannibals,  and 
that  they  had  a  remarkable  custom  of  boning 
hea,ds  whereby  the  head  shrank  to  about  the 
size  of  an  apple  without  losing  its  likeness  to  the 
original  owner,  retaining  even  its  expression. 
There  were,  he  said,  several  erstwhile  officials 
of  the  Rio  Maranon  Company  thus  represented, 
together  with  a  German  botanist  and  an  Eng- 
lish railroad  engineer.  This,  and  some  other  dis- 
coveries, must  have  been  a  considerable  shock 
to  that  lonely  white  man  amid  those  unknown 
people,  but  Ezra  Calvin  could  stand  shocks;  he 
was  made  that  way.  At  night,  by  himself,  he 
would  argue  out  his  position,  and  the  advisa- 
bility of  lodging  some  protest  against  the  can- 
nibalism, the  head-boning  business,  and  one  or 
two  other  details;  but,  to  put.it  in  no  way  too 
strongly,  his  position  was  delicate,  delicate  in 
many  ways.  It  seemed,  as  he  put  it  whimsically 
enough  himself,  hardly  good  manners  to  inter- 


226  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

fere!  Driven  into  the  wilderness  by  his  own 
colour,  or  by  what  the  Indians  would  naturally 
consider  his  own  colour,  he  had  been  found  at 
the  edge  of  death  by  these  people,  who,  with- 
out thought  of  reward,  had  nursed  him  back  to 
sanity  and  life  with  the  most  extreme  gentleness 
and  consideration.  And  they  could  always  say, 
"Well,  if  you  do  not  like  our  ways  you  can  go, 
we  won't  keep  you!"  and  the  colonel,  hard  as  he 
was,  had  no  intention  of  again  facing  the  forest 
alone.  He  did,  however,  at  length  lodge  his  pro- 
test; as  a  white  man  he  could  not  do  less;  and 
the  Indians  were  politely  interested  and  just  a 
little  amused ! 

Split  into  tribes  at  variance  with  one  another, 
tribal  conflicts  were  naturally  not  infrequent, 
and  upon  one  occasion,  by  the  colonel's  strategic 
suggestions,  his  tribe  gained  an  overwhelming 
victory.  From  that  moment  Ezra  Calvin  became 
a  valued  friend  of  the  chief,  a  venerable  old  gen- 
tleman who  had  eaten  many  dozens  of  his  fellow 
men!  So  the  colonel's  hopes  revived  of  weaning 
these  otherwise  excellent  people  from  some  of 
their  ways  and  of  introducing  them  to  Chris- 
tianity. He  was  certainly  a  remarkable  mis- 
sionary, and  he  threw  the  full  force  of  his  power- 
ful personality  into  achieving  this  end;  not  with 
blunt  demands,  mournful  entreaties,  or  hysterical 
exhortations,  or  by  threats  and  a  veiled  superi- 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    227 

ority  of  manner,  but  by  suggestions  of  Machia- 
vellian subtlety. 

"I  wanted  to  see,"  said  the  colonel,  with  really 
grand  simplicity,  "if  I  could  n't  do  something  in 
return  for  all  that  they  had  done  for  me!" 

He  was  much  too  big  a  man  to  boggle  over 
details. 

"I  wanted  to  give  'em  the  Idea,"  said  he,  "and 
before  six  months  was  out  I  was  speakin*  their 
language  pretty  freely.  I  did  n't  get  side-tracked 
on  the  subject  of  clothing  or  creeds  like  most 
missionaries  do.  As  for  clothing,  I  had  none  my- 
self, and  clothing  don't  make  decency  anyway. 
Besides,  if  a  man  looks  like  those  Indians  do,  I 
guess  he  don't  need  no  clothing  to  cover  him  up 
as  we  do  who  are  like  some  fungus  that's  grown 
white  by  living  covered  in  darkness  from  the 
sun.  Also,  clothing,  once  you  have  lived  without 
it,  is  unhealthy.  No,  I  stuck  to  the  main  point." 

With  tact  and  knowledge  and  supreme  deli- 
cacy, with  understanding  sympathy  and  grati- 
tude, the  colonel  set  about  his  task  undismayed. 
The  Indians  were  great  lovers  of  ceremony  and 
of  hero-worship.  The  heroic  deeds  of  the  great 
ones  who  had  departed  were  jealously  guarded 
and  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation, 
and  gradually,  as  their  intimacy  grew,  the  In- 
dians, bit  by  bit,  drew  Ezra  Calvin  into  their 
inner  life,  acquainting  him  with  their  hopes  and 


228  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

beliefs.  An  exchange  of  such  confidences  was 
only  natural,  and  so  the  colonel  had  his  chance. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  he  was  an  extraor- 
dinary man  who  had,  by  then,  —  as  a  result  of 
his  desire,  of  his  affection  for  and  knowledge 
of  these  people,  —  gamed  an  ascendancy  over 
them,  and  knew  just  how,  precisely,  to  reach 
them  and  give  his  words  the  most  effect.  He 
introduced  them  to  Christianity  through  their 
own  language,  by  their  own  ideas,  by  getting  at 
their  own  most  private  point  of  view.  Of  how 
many  missionaries,  I  wonder,  could  the  same  be 
said? 

And  in  the  end  the  colonel,  in  the  main,  won 
the  day ! 

He  won  it  without  book  or  church  or  society 
to  help  him,  sitting  clothed  hi  native  fashion  in 
their  midst,  and  he  made  no  fatal  mistake  over 
side  issues.  The  cannibalism  and  the  head- 
boning  stopped  to  a  very  great  extent,  and  his 
teaching  held  in  other  directions  too. 

So  the  months  passed,  and  the  colonel  was 
giving  up  all  hope  of  ever  again  seeing  his  kind 
or  of  reaching  civilisation.  While  the  tribe  was 
moving  from  one  hunting  ground  to  another, 
having  infrequent  contact  with  the  river  Indians 
who  feared  them,  they  heard,  at  intervals  and 
by  means  of  the  mysterious  Indian  "wireless," 
that  there  was  a  steamer  in  the  river  with  a 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    229 

striped  flag  at  her  stern  that  the  river  Indians 
spoke  well  of.  A  striped  flag  such  as  was  de- 
scribed could  only  be  American,  and  a  sudden 
hurricane  of  longing  and  homesickness  smote 
that  lonely  and  intrepid  man.  The  steamer  was 
hundreds  of  miles  away,  yet,  would  not  an 
American  ship  help  an  American  in  such  a  posi- 
tion as  was  he, — who  could  not  escape  through 
what  was  practically  the  one  road  out?  More- 
over, while  living  with  the  Indians  he  had  made 
a  discovery  that  had  positively  taken  his  breath 
away,  and  I  have  already  said  that  he  was  a  man 
who  could  stand  shocks.  So  he  resolved  to  try  and 
in  some  way  come  in  touch  with  the  steamer  with 
the  striped  flag,  and  his  copper-skinned  friends 
were  willing  enough  to  help  him.  The  results  of 
these  combined  efforts  were  already  known  to  us. 
Apart  from  his  personal  idiosyncrasies,  Colo- 
nel Ezra  Calvin  was  not  unlike  the  great  tribe 
of  wanderers  that  one  comes  across  in  odd  cor- 
ners of  the  globe.  They  are  to  be  found  usually 
beyond  the  edge  of  civilisation,  possessed  by 
an  ungovernable  restlessness  and  a  spirit  of 
romance.  They  have  no  vices,  these  unofficial 
explorers,  and  they  combine  an  extraordinary 
number  of  diverse  abilities  without  either  the 
will  or  the  desire  to  turn  them  to  any  great  mate- 
rial profit.  They  pass  from  country  to  country 
and  are  of  all  nationalities,  though  they  are 


230  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

usually  either  American  or  British.  They  are 
never  seemingly  in  want  of  money  and  always 
appear  to  have  enough  for  their  simple  needs. 
They  die,  as  like  as  not,  in  some  foreign  hospi- 
tal of  some  obscure  tropical  ailment  and  leave 
nothing  but  a  battered  trunk  or  two  behind 
them.  They  invariably  talk  well  and  easily,  and 
their  vocabulary  embraces  technical  and  other 
phrases  in  half  a  dozen  languages  and  dialects  in 
which  there  is  a  strong  flavouring  of  the  sea. 
They  are  patriotic  and  love  their  country,  but 
they  never  live  in  it,  and  they  enjoy  a  surprising 
grasp  of  world  politics.  They  have  no  relations 
and  few  friends  and  no  real  desire  for  either. 
They  are,  in  fact,  detached  eccentrics,  capable 
of  the  most  appalling  hardships,  and  though  full 
of  amazing  schemes  they  are  wholly  without  a 
plan  in  life.  They  feel  no  vestige  of  alarm  at 
any  crisis,  and  would  show  no  dismay  at  being 
stranded  without  money  in  New  York,  Liver- 
pool, or  any  other  place,  and  they  would  some- 
how get  money,  and  get  it  honestly.  Their 
clothing  is  generally  vaguely  remarkable,  com- 
prising, as  likely  as  not,  a  suit  purchased  in 
Kansas  or  it  might  be  Glasgow,  a  shirt  bought 
in  Hongkong,  shoes  from  Budapest,  and  a  hat 
acquired  in  Simla  by  means  of  a  bet.  They  can 
name  all  the  principal  lighthouses,  bar-rooms,  and 
mountain  peaks  in  the  world,  and  they  have  met 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    231 

and  conversed  intimately  with  South  and  Cen- 
tral American  presidents,  Zulu  chiefs,  great  ex- 
plorers, American  millionaires,  English  lords, 
and  the  lesser  German  nobility.  They  are  case- 
hardened  to  all  shocks,  they  know  the  inside 
history  of  many  an  unlawful  deal,  and  they  are 
usually  aiming  for  some  place  which  you  would 
go  far  to  avoid. 

To  such  a  tribe  belonged  Colonel  Ezra  Calvin, 
though  he  had,  in  addition  to  his  tribal  marks, 
his  own  startling  personality.  As  a  prospector 
for  hidden  wealth  in  almost  inaccessible  places 
he  would  have  been  hard  to  beat;  it  was  only 
in  the  matter  of  diplomatic  negotiations  with  the 
all-powerful  Rio  Maranon  Company  that  he  had 
failed;  but  then  the  real  out-and-out,  concen- 
trated American  never  has  been  a  diplomatist, 
though  it  remains  to  be  seen  in  the  very  near 
future  if  he  will  be!  There  had  been  no  diplo- 
matic necessity  in  his  dealings  with  the  Blow- 
gun  Indians,  for  his  relations  with  his  rescuers 
had  been  of  the  most  cordial  nature.  As  an 
exploring  partner  of  such  a  shipmaster  and 
owner  as  Captain  Hawks,  Colonel  Calvin  was 
indispensable.  But  there  could  be  no  doubt  at 
all  that  the  colonel's  difficulty  with  the  Rio 
Maranon  Company,  when  added  to  ours,  was, 
metaphorically  speaking,  enough  to  sink  the 
ship,  and,  speaking  practically,  enough  to  make 


232  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

it  next  thing  to  the  impossible  for  us  to  leave 
the  country  without  international  negotiations. 

The  captain  had  written  to  the  American 
Consul  at  Para,  informing  him  fully  on  all  details 
concerning  Massingbird's  death,  together  with 
the  signed  declarations  of  the  three  witnesses 
of  that  event,  and  explaining  that  we  should  be 
back  in  Para  within  a  few  months  ready  to  an- 
swer all  questions,  and,  in  fact,  put  ourselves 
entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  authorities  —  at 
Para;  but  not  in  the  hands  of  the  paid  authorities 
of  the  Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Company.  This 
the  captain  had  done  upon  the  advice  of  the 
British  Agent  at  Manaos,  and  also  following  that 
advice  we  had  departed  hurriedly  from  Manaos, 
and  the  Rio  Maranon  Company  had  unsuccess- 
fully endeavoured  to  arrest  me  at  Maloca.  How 
that  endeavour  failed  I  have  already  described, 
together  with  the  failure  to  arrest  the  ship,  while 
the  details  incidental  to  those  failures  were  not 
likely  to  better  our  case.  So  the  Rio  Maranon 
Company  held,  as  it  were,  a  very  long  bill 
against  us,  and  when  it  became  known  that  we 
had  Colonel  Calvin  aboard,  —  Colonel  Calvin 
who  had  (1)  refused  with  considerable  direct- 
ness at  Serpa  to  give  an  account  of  himself;  (2) 
slipped  through  its  toils  at  Manaos;  (3)  at  some 
point,  not  indicated,  deliberately  run  down  a  Rio 
Maranon  launch  when  the  officials  therein  had 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    233 

demanded  his  papers;  and  (4)  who  was  now 
wanted  "alive  or  dead"  by  the  Rio  Maranon 
Company,  which  alleged  that  he  was  inciting 
the  Indians  to  revolt  (which  was  a  lie),  and  who 
had  come  openly  into  competition  with  that  com- 
pany, —  and  when  it  became  known  that  we 
had  every  intention  of  taking  the  colonel  out 
of  the  country  with  us,  it  was  obvious  that  the 
Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Company,  which  owned 
the  lives  of  a  great  many  men,  and  which  was 
responsible  for  the  deaths  of  a  great  many  more, 
would  make  no  half-hearted  effort  to  prevent 
us  from  escaping  down  the  one  and  only  road 
which  we  could  use,  namely,  the  Amazon  River. 
Captain  Hawks  had  already  given  me  some 
indication  of  what  he  intended  to  do  in  the 
event  of  certain  complications  which  had  now 
come  about;  he  had  suggested  his  probable  line 
of  action  before  we  sailed,  when  we  were  lying 
at  anchor  in  Galveston  Bay.  Captain  Hawks 
was  not,  I  must  admit,  all  that  he  should  have 
been  (who  is?);  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  an 
ethical  problem  that  is  altogether  beyond  me  as 
to  whether  he  was  right  or  wrong  in  his  intention 
to  trade  honourably  with  the  original  inhabitants 
of  a  vast  country  which  is  claimed  by  four  inde- 
pendent states  and  a  commercial  trust,  none  of 
which  either  governs,  surveys,  improves,  or  even 
polices  the  land  they  all  squabble  over. 


234  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

At  any  rate,  his  intention  held  good.  In  our 
hold  were  the  trade  goods  purchased  by  and 
belonging  to  Captain  Matthew  Hawks,  though 
at  the  time  we  loaded  them  he  had  no  idea  that 
it  would  be  with  the  mysterious  Blowgun  In- 
dians that  we  should  do  business.  Yet  had  he 
seen  at  that  time  all  the  difficulties  awaiting 
us,  and  all  the  difficulties  then  surrounding  his 
lost  partner,  bold  man  though  he  was  I  think 
he  might  have  hesitated  —  though  perhaps  not 
Jor  long  —  to  add  to  them  by  proceeding  dead 
against  the  expressed  wishes  of  five  dog-in- 
the-manger  opponents  such  as  Peru,  Colombia, 
Ecuador,  Brazil,  and  a  ruthless  commercial 
combine  such  as  the  Rio  Maranon  Rubber 
Company.  But  he  had  had  no  idea  of  such  a 
return  cargo  as  had  been  intimated  in  Colonel 
Calvin's  mysteriously  delivered  note!  All  the 
same,  the  situation  was,  in  popular  parlance,  a 
very  tall  proposition  for  one  small  cargo  boat 
to  meet.  But  she  was  a  tough  little  cargo  boat 
all  the  same! 

The  colonel's  bodyguard  of  Indians  were  en- 
tertained upon  the  forward  main-deck  by  our 
crew,  who  were  supplied  with  the  means  of  enter- 
tainment. The  difficulties  of  speech  were  no  real 
barriers,  for  extreme  amiability  characterised 
the  meeting,  — amiability  tempered  with  marked 
respect  upon  both  sides.  Ten  other  canoes  also 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    235 

came  alongside,  each  canoe  carrying  a  crew  of 
six  magnificent  men.  They  left  their  blowguns 
in  their  canoes,  moored  to  the  bottom  of  the 
ladder,  as  a  token  of  trust  and  general  polite- 
ness, much  as  a  policeman  might  remove  his 
helmet  when  entering  the  house  of  a  friend. 
That  our  crew  and  the  Blowgun  Indians  would 
be  friends  was  likely,  for  both  were  real  proper 
men,  though  widely  different  in  race.  There 
was  little  of  "Lo  the  poor  Indian ! "  in  these  spare 
and  elegant  savages,  who  could  kill  you  in  dead 
silence  with  a  puff  of  breath.  They  had,  practi- 
cally speaking,  never  come  in  contact  with  white 
men  before,  and  white  men  had  never  come 
in  contact  with  them  —  and  lived  afterwards ! 
They  were  therefore  entirely  unspoiled,  un- 
touched, unchanged,  and  there  was  not  a  man 
among  us  who  did  not  realise  that  it  was  an 
extraordinary  experience.  In  the  wild  parts  of 
the  world,  equality  and  inequality  between  peo- 
ple are  measured  in  terms  of  force  and  power, 
and  not  by  intellectual  achievement  except  in 
so  much  as  intellectual  achievement  bestows 
power  in  the  shape  of  firearms,  or,  in  other  words, 
the  power  to  kill.  And  with  regard  to  this  last 
consideration  there  was  little  doubt  that  we  were 
even  or  nearly  so;  any  advantage  lying  with  the 
Indians  and  not  with  us.  We  might,  and  per- 
haps could,  defy  four  South  American  states  and 


236  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

the  Rio  Maranon  Company,  but  there  was  no 
doubt  at  all  that  we  could  not  defy  the  Blowgun 
Indians!  I  moved  about  among  our  men  with 
watchful  eyes,  and  put  the  nature  of  our  sur- 
roundings very  emphatically  to  them.  On  no 
account  whatever,  and  for  no  reason,  must  there 
be  any  trouble.  It  was  true  that  the  colonel  had 
much  power  with  them,  and  that  our  reputa- 
tion with  the  Indians  was  first  class,  but  if  a 
quarrel  were  to  arise,  tough  ship's  company 
though  they  might  be,  we  should  inevitably 
cease  to  exist,  and  the  manner  of  our  exit  made 
one  shudder  to  contemplate.  But  there  was 
never  any  suggestion  of  trouble,  for  everything 
was  nice  and  friendly. 

The  leader  of  the  Indians  who  had  accom- 
panied the  colonel  was  not  the  chief,  but  a  sort 
of  secretary  for  foreign  affairs.  We  could  not  be- 
gin to  pronounce  his  name,  but  Wilfred  promptly 
christened  him  "Alf,"  and  so,  to  us,  Alf  he 
remained.  The  little  cook  possessed  an  obscure 
and  subtle  ability  for  giving  people  and  things 
names  which,  though  seemingly  illogical,  yet 
stuck  by  their  very  incongruity.  Thus  the  alli- 
gator that  occupied  much  valuable  space  on  the 
after  main-deck  was  always  referred  to  quite 
gravely  as  "Percy"  by  us  all,  including  the  cap- 
tain and  Mr.  McLushley.  That  fourteen-foot 
monstrosity,  by  the  way,  if  not  exactly  a  pet, 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    237 

was  becoming  resigned  to  his  captivity;  a  cap- 
tivity brightened  by  a  large  and  regular  supply 
of  food. 

Alf  was  truly  a  magnificent  specimen,  stand- 
ing a  good  six  feet  one  and  with  a  slim  and  grace- 
ful carriage  that  was  a  joy  to  behold.  He  was  a 
light  sort  of  copper-bronze  in  hue  with  an  un- 
blemished skin.  As  Wilfred  said:  "Yer  don't 
need  no  clothes  when  you  'ave  a  body  like  our 
friend  Alf's."  Alf's  face  was  oblong,  not  squat 
and  Mongolian,  with  clean-cut  features  stamped 
with  the  marks  of  intelligence  and  a  good  clean 
stock  of  forefathers.  Had  his  colouring  been 
white  he  would  have  made  an  extraordinarily 
good  example  of  our  race,  yet  with  an  added 
quality  that  would  have  made  men  fear  him  in 
no  uncertain  manner.  This  quality  I  could  put 
no  name  to,  though  I  was  aware  of  its  presence 
in  all,  or  almost  all,  the  Blowgun  Indians.  Itfwas 
an  unknown,  unplumbed  abyss,  and  to  use  a 
metaphor,  was  like  an  w/imoral  and  noble  crimi- 
nality. You  felt  that  with  all  his  real  excellence, 
Alf  would,  on  certain  occasions,  logical  enough  to 
him,  but  incomprehensible  to  you,  do  shocking 
and  awful  things  as  a  matter  of  course.  If,  for 
instance,  you  fought  him  and  you  put  up  a  real 
good  fight,  and  if  he  killed  you,  as  he  would  with 
his  blowgun,  he  would  be  tempted  to  eat  you  as 
a  sort  of  token  of  respect  to  your  departed  spirit. 


238  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

Well,  there  it  was;  there  was  no  possibility  of  get- 
ting that  point  of  view,  so  it  was  no  good  trying; 
it  had  to  be  accepted  as  one  of  the  multitude  of 
mysteries  that  surround  us  in  a  primeval  forest 
of  pagan  America  or  in  the  crowded  streets  of  a 
Christian  city. 

I  conducted  Alf  over  the  ship  and  we  were 
very  polite  to  each  other,  you  may  be  sure.  He 
was  quite  able  to  grasp  the  general  idea  of  the 
vessel's  construction,  though  iron  and  steel  were 
new  to  him.  Still,  he  realised  that  given  such 
metals  and  the  power  to  work  them,  such  a  form 
of  gigantic  canoe  might  be  made,  but  he  could 
not  in  the  least  understand  the  engines,  which 
last  Mr.  McLushley  himself  endeavoured  to 
explain  by  sign  and  action.  Ah*  and  the  chief 
engineer  regarded  each  other  impassively  for  a 
moment,  looking  each  other  up  and  down  and 
finally  unflinchingly  in  the  eyes  —  a  long,  search- 
ing stare;  then  they  nodded  with  complete 
gravity  as  though  each  were  saying  to  himself: 
"  Verily,  here  is  a  Man ! "  But  the  principles  that 
govern  reciprocating  machinery  not  unnaturally 
were  beyond  ALF.  He  was  a  little  dazed  and  as  - 
tonished,  though  in  no  way  alarmed,  by  the  slo\* 
and  delicately  ponderous,  calculated,  and  or- 
dained precision  of  movement  that  answered,  so 
exactly,  Mr.  McLushley's  battered  and  capable 
hands  upon  the  little  black  wheel  projecting  from 


A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS    239 

the  large  copper  pipe  that  held  in  slavery  that 
vast  array  of  gleaming  metal.  He  caught  on  to 
the  fact  that  what  he  beheld  was  not  magic  but  a 
man-made  thing,  and  suddenly  turning  to  us  as 
representatives  of  the  race  that  could  create  such 
things,  he  made  a  movement  that  was  a  gesture  of 
respect  that  was  superb  in  its  simple  dignity;  it 
made  one  blush! 

So  the  night  passed,  full  of  interest  and  events, 
in  a  social  function  that  could  only  be  called 
profoundly  odd.  It  was  as  though  here,  far  be- 
yond the  boundaries  of  the  white  man's  influence 
and  activity,  we  were  received  and  measured  at 
the  very  entrance  of  the  unknown  by  the  un- 
known inhabitants. 

The  following  day,  the  Martin  Connor,  that 
essential  product  of  science  and  commerce,  with 
her  electric  light,  multitubular  boiler,  her  auto- 
matic ash  ejector  and  Kelvin  compass,  plastered 
with  insurance  policies  and  legal  agreements, 
continued  into  the  strange  domain  whose  inhab- 
itants, as  strange  and  as  unknown  as  their  coun- 
try, had,  as  it  were,  examined  us  and  permitted 
us  to  enter! 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   GREAT   DISCOVERY 

As  soon  as  daylight  permitted  we  were  under 
weigh  next  morning,  to  the  vast  interest  of  the 
Blowgun  Indians,  who  for  some  mysterious 
reason  seemed  to  find  humour  in  the  proceeding ! 
Alf  and  his  party  remained  on  board,  and  we 
hoisted  on  deck  their  canoe  (a  long  and  elegant 
craft  dug  out  from  a  single  tree-trunk  and 
shaved  to  a  thinness  of  sheet  tin,  then  scraped 
and  polished  until  it  had  an  outward  surface  not 
unlike  that  of  a  meerschaum  pipe).  The  steam 
capstan  startled  them;  they  thought,  and  not  un- 
naturally, that  we  must  have  a  gang  of  men  they 
had  not  seen  concealed  beneath  the  deck.  We 
managed  to  assure  them,  however,  that  this  was 
not  so,  and  we  took  some  trouble  in  the  matter; 
for  we  had  every  intention  of  remaining  upon 
the  best  possible  terms  with  these  people  and 
their  terrible  weapon. 

It  now  became  obvious  that  we  were  entering 
a  country  that  was  altogether  different  from  the 
Amazon  lowlands.  This  change,  strictly  speak- 
ing, began  somewhere  about  Maloca,  but  in  that 
place  the  change  had  been  very  gradual.  Now, 
every  hour  of  steaming  marked  a  difference. 


THE  GREAT  DISCOVERY         241 

The  current  of  the  river  grew  quicker,  the  banks 
became  higher  and  were  often  of  a  rocky  nature. 
The  swamps  seemed  left  behind  us,  and  there 
arose  to  the  north  and  west  a  range  of  hills  that 
were  bare  of  trees  toward  the  top.  The  climate 
also  improved.  The  heat  was  less,  and  to  our 
great  thankfulness  the  insects  were  no  longer  in 
such  uncounted  millions.  Occasionally  the  river 
narrowed  into  a  rocky  gorge,  and  to  take  a  sea- 
going ship  up  such  an  uncharted  stream  was  no 
child's  play.  The  colonel,  however,  with  his  inde- 
fatigable industry,  had  taken  soundings,  and  we 
kept  two  men  busy  with  the  lead.  The  river, 
you  must  understand,  was  still  a  big  river  accord- 
ing to  our  standards,  but  was  just  a  creek  in  com- 
parison with  the  Amazon.  Captain  Hawks  kept 
on  at  full  speed  in  order  that  he  might  have  the 
greatest  possible  command  of  the  ship,  though 
had  we  run  aground  then  upon  the  rocks  that 
fringed  the  banks  we,  or  rather  the  ship,  would 
have  stayed  there  for  all  time.  The  colonel  knew 
the  river,  so  did  the  Indians,  and  the  men  with 
the  lead  were  busy  on  either  side  of  the  bridge- 
deck.  But  to  take  accurate  soundings  from  a 
swiftly  moving  ship  in  a  swiftly  flowing  river  is 
impossible,  and  it  was,  at  best,  but  guesswork. 
But  from  the  manner  in  which  the  line  ran  out 
it  was  possible  to  form  some  opinion  of  the  water 
beneath  us. 


242  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

Here  and  there  great  masses  of  rock  rose  above 
the  forest  trees  draped  in  festoons  of  fern-like 
plants,  and  occasionally  an  open  glade  showed 
up  amid  the  trees.  This  was  beautiful  country 
and  enchanting  to  the  eye  sickened  of  extra- 
tropical  regions.  And  the  forest  swarmed  with 
life.  Droves,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  flocks,  of 
monkeys  went  sailing  through  the  trees  with  a 
rapidity  and  ease  that  suggested  the  flight  of 
birds,  and  their  passage  was  accompanied  by  an 
immense  chatteration.  The  hour  for  the  midday 
meal  went  unnoticed.  Every  man  who  could  be 
was  on  deck  gazing  upon  a  country  which,  with 
the  exception  of  the  colonel,  had,  in  all  probabil- 
ity, never  been  seen  before  by  white  men.  More- 
over, the  risks  and  dangers  of  our  progress  were 
manifest  to  all,  for  it  was  rather  like  riding  a 
bicycle  up  a  wheel  track  of  a  waggon;  and  only 
the  most  prompt  and  immediate  obedience  of  all 
saved  the  ship  from  disaster  several  times  that 
day.  When  we  anchored  again  that  night  a  sigh 
of  relief  went  up  from  us  all,  including  the  cap- 
tain, who  had  never  left  the  bridge  since  dawn. 

For  three  days  of  intense  vigilance  we  con- 
tinued, and  by  then  the  nature  of  the  country  had 
altered  very  greatly.  Mountains  —  real  moun- 
tains —  rose  high  in  the  north  and  west,  un- 
named, unknown,  and  unexplored,  for  we  were 
too  far  south  for  any  of  the  trails  that  led  over 


THE  GREAT  DISCOVERY         243 

the  Andes  and  into  the  Amazon  Basin.  The  im- 
provement in  the  climate  was  welcome  to  us 
all,  and  though  possibly  a  few  months  before  we 
should  have  considered  it  unbearably  humid,  it 
was,  by  comparison  with  what  we  had  been  in, 
almost  temperate.  The  trees  also  changed,  and 
we  saw  many  species  we  had  not  seen  before;  and 
though,  no  doubt,  they  all  had  names,  I  am  afraid 
that  we  did  not  know  them.  The  river  divided 
at  a  series  of  rocky  islands,  and  then  branched 
off,  and  obeying  the  colonel's  instructions  we  fol- 
lowed the  northerly  branch  through  a  fine  gorge 
of  red  rock  that  glistened  with  hundreds  of 
minute  waterfalls  that  fell  like  rain  through  a 
tangle  of  drooping  ferns.  Later,  in  the  early 
afternoon  the  gorge  ceased  abruptly  and  gave 
place  to  a  mile  or  two  of  low-lying  lands;  farther 
on  the  banks  receded  and  we  entered  a  wide, 
deep  lake. 

We  were  now  some  sixteen  hundred  miles  in- 
land from  the  Atlantic,  and  were,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  considerably  nearer  the  Pacific.  Though 
various  statements  are  made  concerning  the  dis- 
tance which  ocean-going  ships  can  ascend  the 
Amazon,  from  our  experience  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  some  of  the  statements  are  travellers' 
tales.  The  main  stream  is  said  to  be  navigable 
for  seagoing  ships  as  far  as  Iquitos  in  Peru,  about 
twenty-three  hundred  miles  from  the  Atlantic, 


244  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

while  vessels  of  a  less  draught,  but  drawing  four- 
teen feet,  can  go  as  far  as  Achual  Point,  which  is 
four  hundred  and  eighty-six  miles  beyond  Iqui- 
tos.  Beyond  Achual  Point  the  stream  is  con- 
sidered dangerous,  though  I  saw  myself  some 
steamers  at  Para  intended  for  the  navigation  of 
the  stream  above  Achual  Point,  and  they  must 
have  drawn  at  least  eight  feet,  though  they  were 
bound  for  Pongo  de  Manseriche,  which  is  many, 
many  miles  beyond  Achual  Point.  Therefore,  in 
comparison  with  these  figures  our  distance  inland 
did  not  sound  so  much,  though  actually,  and  when 
studying  the  chart,  I  remember  that  we  seemed 
a  tremendously  long  way  from  the  sea.  As  Wil- 
fred said,  "It  seemed  a  long,  long  way  to Tipper- 
ary  " ;  and  then  the  sudden  discovery  of  this  great 
sheet  of  water  which  we  entered  that  afternoon 
was,  considering  our  position,  quite  startling. 
The  shore  lines  stretched  away  upon  either  hand 
until  they  became  thin  ribbons  in  the  distance,  as 
do  the  beaches  of  an  atoll  appear  to  a  ship  enter- 
ing a  South  Sea  lagoon.  But  beyond  the  shore  the 
land  rose  high  and  distant.  In  places  the  sur- 
face of  the  lake  was  clotted  with  forest  wreckage 
woven  together  into  floating  islands  and  popu- 
lous with  life. 

"  Could  n't  find  a  better  place  to  strip  a  blade," 
remarked  the  captain,  and  rang  off  the  engines  to 
"dead  slow"  and  then  to  "stop,"  allowing  our 


THE  GREAT  DISCOVERY         245 

impetus  to  carry  us  a  full  mile,  winding  in  and 
out  amid  those  floating  islands. 

I  was  standing  on  the  forecastle-head  with 
Wilfred  at  my  side.  Suddenly  the  little  cook  shot 
out  a  thin  arm  and  pointed  ahead,  while  aston- 
ishment robbed  him  of  speech.  High  above  the 
mountains  to  westward,  at  a  great  distance,  and 
at  a  positively  staggering  altitude,  ethereal  and 
fairy-like  in  the  sky,  stood  the  faint  outline  of  a 
gigantic  range  of  mountains.  The  mountains  be- 
yond the  shore  line  had  appeared  high  until  that 
moment,  and  undoubtedly  they  were  high,  but 
the  vastness  of  that  ethereal  range  beyond  —  so 
distant  that  the  summits  seemed  to  be  severed 
from  the  earth,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  their  manifest 
distance  so  high,  appearing  thus  mysterious  and 
remote  —  was,  literally,  thrilling  and  dramatic. 
The  sight  was,  as  the  saying  is,  enough  to  take 
one's  breath  away,  and  one's  astonishment  was  in 
no  way  lessened  by  the  thought  that  here,  indeed, 
were  the  Andes,  seen  from  the  east,  and  from  an 
ocean-going  ship!  At  that  moment  the  bridge 
also  caught  sight  of  them. 

"Look  ahead,  Grummet!  In  the  sky!"  came 
Captain  Hawks's  voice  quickly. 

"I  have  just  this  moment  seen  them,  sir!"  I 
answered ;  and  the  captain  laughed  and  waved  his 
arms  in  a  gesture  more  expressive  than  words. 

"What  next,  I  wonder!"  he  said. 


246  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

It  was  only  for  a  moment  or  two  that  that 
line  of  mountains  remained  visible,  during  some 
chance  balance  of  lighting;  then  they  faded  and 
were  not,  leaving  upon  the  mind  of  the  beholder 
an  impression  of  something  wholly  unearthly, 
and  of  something  tremendously  solemn.  I  had 
never  expected  to  see  the  Andes  from  the  east. 
Viewed  from  the  west  their  whole  extent  is  often 
seen;  but  their  eastern  slopes  are  usually  ac- 
counted too  gradual  in  character,  and  the  crests 
do  not  therefore  appear  until  many  thousand 
feet  have  first  been  climbed.  But  there  are  great 
portions  of  that  continent  that  are  still  unknown, 
where  unknown  sights  may  meet  the  eye  of  the 
traveller;  and  certainly,  from  one  place  at  least, 
those  great  mountains,  the  second  highest  in  the 
world,  can  be  seen  from  the  east  in  their  entirety, 
for  we  saw  them.  However,  we  never  saw  them 
again  that  way,  though  six  men  saw  them  at  the 
same  moment,  six  men  whose  eyesight  was  not 
only  of  the  best,  but  trained  and  used  to  long 
distances.  Therefore,  and  as  we  were  in  a  wholly 
unexplored  region,  I  have  not  the  least  doubt 
that  it  was,  indeed,  the  Andes  we  saw,  vast  and 
remote,  revealed  for  one  extraordinary  moment 
by  some  chance  of  sunlight,  and  I,  for  one,  shall 
never  forget  the  experience. 

By  using  what  open  spaces  there  were  in  that 
large  inland  lake,  and  by  nosing  our  way  upon 


THE  GREAT  DISCOVERY         247 

impetus  through  the  slush  of  forest  debris, 
Captain  Hawks  got  the  ship  across  the  ten  or 
fifteen  miles  to  the  opposite  shore,  while  multi- 
tudes of  birds  rose  circling  in  alarm  at  our  passage. 
The  trees  fringing  the  western  side  of  the  lake 
came  into  view  with  rapidly  rising  ground  be- 
hind them.  Continually  sounding,  we  got  across 
the  lake,  and,  as  we  approached  the  shore,  there 
came  gradually  upon  the  ear  a  whisper  that  grew 
more  distinct  as  we  progressed.  It  puzzled  us 
upon  the  forecastle-head  for  some  time  until  the 
sound,  growing  more  pronounced,  became  finally 
the  sustained  roar  of  falling  water. 

With  infinite  caution,  and  with  all  the  knowl- 
edge and  apparatus  of  a  ship  making  a  landfall 
off  an  unknown  seacoast,  we  approached  and 
dropped  anchor  at  nightfall.  After  watching  the 
iron  fall  clear  and  hauling  short,  I  leaned  on  the 
rail  a  moment  and  looked  round,  and  in  one  silent 
minute  there  were  half  a  hundred  canoes  about  us, 
appearing  as  mysteriously  as  they  had  appeared 
at  Maloca.  I  do  not  know  how  it  was  done;  it  was 
uncanny  in  the  extreme,  and  was  as  though  they 
had  risen  from  beneath  the  surface.  Of  course 
the  light  was  fading,  as  it  had  been  at  Maloca, 
and  of  course  there  were  many  floating  islands 
and  masses  of  forest  wreckage  surrounding  us 
and  behind  which,  in  the  dusk,  a  canoe  full  of 
men,  if  perfectly  motionless,  could  hide.  Yet 


248  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

there  was  clear  water  about  us  for  several  hun- 
dred yards,  and  it  was  in  this  clear  water  that  the 
canoes  seemed  to  make  their  first  appearance. 
And  as  each  canoe  was  full  of  the  deadly  Blow- 
gun  Indians,  the  sight,  even  though  they  were 
friendlily  disposed  toward  us,  was  sufficiently  im- 
pressive. This  was  woodcraft  of  a  superior  kind, 
and  being  aquatic  in  character  earned  our  pro- 
found respect.  Ah*,  upon  the  main-deck,  greeted 
his  brethren  with  a  guttural  cry,  and  at  once  the 
silence  was  broken  by  a  cheerful  uproar,  and  the 
canoes  came  sweeping  alongside.  Every  man  had 
with  him  his  eight-foot  blowgun,  while  slung  at 
his  hip  was  a  gourd  containing  his  terrible  am- 
munition. The  Indians  were  invited  aboard,  and 
they  came  in  crowds,  and  upon  both  sides  an 
attitude  of  affable  friendliness  and  respect  pre- 
vailed. For  the  ship  must  have  been  full  of  the 
unknown  and  possibly  dangerous  unexpected  to 
the  Indians,  while  we,  outnumbered  twenty  to 
one,  had  no  intention  of  being  otherwise  than 
most  polite.  The  fear  of  death  was  therefore  not 
absent  from  all  our  minds,  Indians  and  whites 
alike,  and  the  fear  of  death  promotes  good  man- 
ners in  a  way  not  realised  in  a  civilisation  where 
you  can  be  as  rude  as  you  like  and  only  be  im- 
prisoned or  fined. 

That  night  was  somewhat  extraordinary.  The 
ship  positively  swarmed  with  Indians,  mostly  of 


THE  GREAT  DISCOVERY         249 

a  magnificent  physique  and  wholly  untouched  by 
any  previous  intercourse  with  white  men.  Their 
shocking  reputation  also  added  to  the  strange- 
ness of  the  situation,  and  even  Wilfred  carried 
himself  with  a  certain  reserve  and  caution.  As 
for  myself,  I  will  admit  at  once  that  I  was  scared. 
No  man  who  was  not  a  fool  could  be  otherwise. 
The  Indians  clustered  and  jostled  at  the  galley 
door,  where  Wilfred  explained,  by  the  medium  of 
signs,  the  mysteries  of  the  white  man's  cooking 
apparatus.  They  hesitated  to  enter  doorways, 
and  would  peer  in  at  one  unexpectedly  with 
friendly  faces  that  yet  bore  the  obvious  possi- 
bilities of  an  expression  of  the  greatest  ferocity. 
I  got  some  considerable  shocks  that  night !  With 
the  fittings  and  appurtenances  of  the  ship  they 
displayed  the  happiest  interest  not  wholly  devoid 
of  fear,  and  the  ship,  being,  as  she  was,  such  a  col- 
lection of  strange  and  wonderful  contrivances, 
kept  them  in  a  subdued  mood  that  in  time  wore 
off.  That  there  should  be  a  live  alligator  in  a  sort 
of  gigantic  pig-pen  on  the  after  deck  excited  their 
mirth,  though  Stadger,  Wilfred's  acquired  dog, 
and  one  of  the  most  amiable  of  the  ship's  com- 
pany, struck  fear  in  their  hearts,  for  he  was  a 
wholly  strange  animal.  They  thought  that  'Arry 
Ketchold  must  be  commander  on  account  of  his 
size,  and  with  all  simplicity  they  dismissed  the 
engines  and  the  electric  light  as  miracles  beyond 


250  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

their  grasp,  and  which  only  these  pale  faced  men 
from  a  far  distant  tribe  could  possibly  under- 
stand or  manage.  The  iron  of  which  the  ship  was 
constructed  appeared  to  be  most  wonderful  of  all, 
and  in  consequence  of  this,  a  surprise  which  the 
captain  was  holding  in  store  for  us  all  came  before 
he  had  intended  it.  Wilfred  was  the  accidental 
medium. 

After  some  hours  had  been  consumed  in  explor- 
ing the  ship  and  in  affable  interchange,  our  crew 
opened  up  negotiations  for  trade,  and  in  a  short 
time  a  brisk  business  was  in  progress.  Some  time 
after  midnight  the  Indians  departed,  leaving  be- 
hind them  a  surprising  medley  of  things,  but  not, 
however,  one  blowgun  or  set  of  darts !  I  could  not 
help  but  regard  this  fact  as  somewhat  significant. 
But  the  crew  were  pleased  and  so  were  the  In- 
dians, which,  after  all,  was  all  that  mattered,  for 
to  establish  pleasant  social  and  business  relations 
with  these  people  was  what  the  captain  wished. 
Wilfred  had  also  been  trading,  and  he  had  not 
confined  his  operations  to  what  is  termed 
"curios"  or  "junk."  While  we  were  at  a  late 
supper  the  little  man  marched  in,  and  with  the 
light  of  a  great  emotion  in  his  bright  eyes  he 
planted  down  with  a  thump  in  the  middle  of  the 
table  a  granite-iron  (I  think  it  is  called)  sauce- 
pan filled  with  smooth,  water-worn,  bean-shaped 
pebbles  of  pure  gold  that  varied  in  size  from  that 


THE  GREAT  DISCOVERY         251 

of  a  pea  to  almost  a  pigeon's  egg!  When  I  say 
that  this  saucepan  was  filled  with  nuggets  I  mean 
that  it  was  full  to  overflowing,  much  as  though 
its  contents  had  been  shingle  scooped  up  from 
a  beach.  Moreover,  this  gold  was  in  realisable 
form;  to  the  most  inexpert  it  was  obviously  gold, 
not  partially  hidden  in  dull  lumps  of  un- 
crushed,  ore-bearing  rock,  but  smooth,  shining, 
and  yellow,  like  a  five-dollar  gold-piece  or  an 
English  sovereign.  To  Timothy  Hanks  and  my- 
self, who  knew  nothing  of  this  surprise  which  the 
captain  and  the  colonel  had  in  store  for  us,  and 
even  to  Captain  Esterkay ,  who  only  knew  of  the 
reported  presence  of  gold  in  this  unknown  coun- 
try, the  sight  of  that  ordinary  cooking  utensil  with 
its  most  extraordinary  contents  was  as  startling 
as  so  much  lyddite  attached  to  a  burning  fuse. 

Captain  Hawks  smiled  and  glanced  keenly  up 
at  Wilfred  and  asked:  — 

"Whose?" 

" Yours,"  replied  Wilfred  promptly,  with  a 
bird-like  briskness  of  manner. 

"Explain,"  said  Captain  Hawks,  still  smiling. 

"Sut'nly.  A  little  while  ago,  when  them  Hin- 
dians  come  round  to  my  galley,  I  noticed  one 
old  gent  dressed  in  a  pair  of  fine,  pure  gold  hear- 
rings.  So,  when  the  others  had  gone  on  to  look 
at  something  helse,  I  kep  'im,  accidental,  sort  of, 
talkin'  by  means  of  signs,  you  know.  'E  says  to 


252  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

me,  in  signs,  "Ow  much  d'  you  want  for  that 
theer  knife?'  pointin'  to  one  of  them  three  big 
knives  what  I  cut  up  fresh  meat  wiv.  I'd  seen 
'is  hear-rings  some  time  back  an'  I  hintennated 
to  'im,  like,  that  'e  could  'ave  the  knife  fer  a 
pebble  or  two  like  what  'e  was  wearin'  in  place 
of  a  full  suit  of  clothes.  'E  seemed  to  think  me 
soft  in  the  'ead,  but  I  did  n't  mind  thet,  an'  orf 
'e  goes  an'  comes  back  presently  in  'is  canoe  with 
that  little  lot"  (nodding  at  the  saucepan  on  the 
table)  "in  one  of  them  theer  jourds.  When  I  see 
what  'e  'ad  brought  I  was  generous-like.  'You 
can  'ave  three  knives,'  I  says,  in  signs,  at  the  same 
time  ketchin'  'old  of  the  jourd,  not  snetchin', 
y'  know,  but  jest  takin'  it  perlite-like  wivout 
hundue  waste  o'  time.  I  give  'im  the  three  knives 
an'  hempties  the  jourd  into  the  fust  thing  as  come 
'andy,  which  was  thet  theer  saucep'n.  The  three 
knives  belonged  to  the  ship,  the  ship  belongs  to 
you,  therefore  the  gold  is  yours!" 

Captain  Hawks  grinned. 

"Wilfred,"  said  he,  "Cert'nly  Wilfred." 

"Yus,  sir?" 

"Wilfred  Gee,  old  friend." 

"Thet's  me,  Capting  'Auks." 

"I  make  you  a  present  of  those  three  knives, 
and,  in  consequence,  the  gold  is  yours." 

"Mine!"  gasped  the  little  man,  "mother,  what 
'11 1  do  wiv  it!" 


THE  GREAT  DISCOVERY         253 

"I'll  lock  it  in  the  safe  for  you,"  replied  the 
captain,  "for,  at  a  conservative  estimate,  there 
are  many  thousand  dollars  which  any  bank  in  the 
United  States  would  hand  you  across  the  counter 
in  exchange.  You  might  even  retire  from  the 
sea,  if  you  wished." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  retire  from  the  sea,  least- 
ways not  from  this  ship.  Are  you  givin'  me  an 
intimation  of  the  noble  border  of  the  sack?  Are 
you  givin'  me  the  boot?  In  pline  Henglish,  are 
you  droppin*  the  noddle  on  my  boko?" 

"Come  again,"  said  the  captain;  "what  d'  you 
mean?" 

"Well,  it  sounds  as  if  you  was  dischargin'  me, 
or  as  if  you  was  tellin'  me  as  'ow  I  could  go  at  the 
end  of  the  cruise." 

"Don't  be  an  all-fired  jackass.  I'm  giving  you 
many  thousand  dollars,"  said  the  captain,  still 
grinning;  and  Wilfred  stared  at  him. 

"It's  unusual,"  said  the  cook. 

"Admitted,"  remarked  the  captain;  "but  we 
are  in  an  unusual  place.  Are  you  too  proud  to 
take  it  from  me?" 

"Of  course  I'm  not,  if  you  reely  mean  it," 
answered  Wilfred,  still  eyeing  the  captain  in- 
tently. ;<  'Ad  n't  you  better  leave  it  till  the 
morning?" 

"D' you  think  I'm  drunk?"  asked  Captain 
Hawks. 


254  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"Well  —  I  —  I  —  not  what  Pd  call  drunk,  but 
careless-like." 

The  captain's  grin  grew  until  he  threw  back 
his  head  and  laughed. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  me  drunk?"  he  asked 
finally. 

"No;  but  I  'ave  n't  never  seen  you  give  away 
a  pot  o'  money  like  so  much  pebbles  on  the 
beach." 

"True,"  agreed  the  captain;  "I  guess  I'd 
better  explain." 

"Guess  you  'ad,"  said  Wilfred. 

Captain  Hawks  turned  to  us,  and  though  his 
remarks  were  addressed  to  all,  his  eyes  rested 
upon  me,  for  he  and  I  and  Wilfred  had  been  to- 
gether since  he  had  taken  his  first  command,  and 
it  had  been  a  long  record  of  mutual  struggle  and 
friendship. 

"I  guess,"  said  he,  "that  this  will  be  my  last 
cruise.  The  explanation  is  simple.  The  explana- 
tion of  why  I  left  Maloca  without  putting  up  any 
kind  of  fight,  either  with  the  Rio  Maranon  or  for 
my  return  cargo  of  rubber,  is  also  simple.  The 
reasons  for  my  actions  were  consequent  upon  that 
letter  I  got  from  Colonel  Calvin,  which  told  me 
that  I  could  save  him  by  coming  up-stream  a 
certain  distance.  There  was  also  news  in  his 
letter  of  this  gold.  Who  owns  this  country  I 
can't  say,  though  I'm  inclined  to  think  the 


THE  GREAT  DISCOVERY         255 

owners  are  the  Blowgun  Indians,  who  are  ready 
and  prepared  to  trade.  The  goods  that  I  can 
supply  them  with  are  cheap  and  common  enough 
with  us,  but,  until  we  came,  were  unobtainable 
for  the  Indians,  and  I  guess  the  worth  of  a 
thing  is  just  according  to  how  you  can  get  it.  It 
has  just  been  demonstrated  that  three  knives, 
worth  about  four  dollars  each  in  the  United 
States,  are  worth  that  pot  of  gold  at  the  back 
of  the  Amazon  because  the  inhabitants  have 
more  gold  than  knives.  Sound  economy,  I  think. 
Gentlemen,  the  reason  why  this  will  probably  be 
my  last  cruise  and  your  last  cruise  is,  that,  pro- 
vided we  manage  to  get  out  of  the  country,  we 
shall  all  be  very  wealthy  men." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  during  which 
Cert'nly  Wilfred  sat  down  heavily  (for  him)  in 
the  nearest  chair. 

"Well,  an*  I  don't  think  so  much  of  the 
prospec',  neither,"  remarked  the  cook;  "who 
wants  to  be  very  wealthy?" 

"Wait  and  see,"  said  the  captain.  "It  may  be 
said,"  he  continued,  "that  I  am  poaching.  But  I 
think  that  would  be  incorrect.  Poaching  neces- 
sarily implies  preservation  in  some  form,  and  I 
need  not  remind  you  that  there  is  no  preserva- 
tion of  any  kind  going  on  here.  'This  is  disputed 
territory.  It  is  quite  unexplored,  quite  uncon- 
trolled, and,  to  my  thinking,  still  belongs  to  the 


256  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

original  inhabitants  whom  it  pleased  God  to  put 
here.  Now  these  people  have  any  quantity  of 
pure,  alluvial  gold.  They  don't  have  to  dig  for  it, 
or  blast  for  it,  or  crush  it  when  found.  It  comes 
from  reefs  somewhere  in  the  lower  Andes,  and  all 
they  have  to  do  is  to  pick  it  up  out  of  stream  beds. 
It  is  of  little  use  to  them,  because  it  is  too  soft 
for  most  purposes  for  which  metal  is  employed. 
They  use  it  for  ornaments,  but,  as  far  as  I  can 
find  out  from  Colonel  Calvin,  I  gather  that  its 
cheapness  renders  it  a  poor  sort  of  ornamenta- 
tion, and  it  is,  in  fact,  regarded  by  these  Indians 
much  as  we  regard  a  celluloid  collar !  Any  sort  of 
mining  operations  in  this  country  is  impossible, 
and  until  the  alluvial  gold  has  been  removed  is 
unnecessary.  It  is  only  by  a  strange  and  unusual 
set  of  circumstances  that  we  are  here,  living  un- 
harmed amid  these  Indians  that  even  the  Rio 
Maranon  Company  dare  not  take  on,  which  fact, 
incidentally,  guarantees  our  safety  for  the  time 
being  from  our  friends  in  the  rubber  business. 
So,  gentlemen,  now  is  our  chance.  Here  are  we 
in  a  full-powered  steamship  with  a  good  supply 
of  trade  goods  that  I  invested  in  for  trading  pur- 
poses; only,  when  I  did  so,  it  was  rubber  I  was 
after,  not  saucepans  full  of  practically  pure  gold. 
I  will,  later  on,  draw  up  a  system  of  mutual 
profit,  a  system  that  shall  be  based  upon  busi- 
ness principles  according  to  service  rendered." 


THE  GREAT  DISCOVERY         257 

Again  there  followed  a  silence  which  was  due 
to  the  simple  reason  that  nobody  knew  what  to 
say. 

For  my  own  part  I  found  myself  unexpectedly 
unmoved  before  the  prospect  of  probable  wealth. 
Sailors,  almost  without  exception,  are  not  money- 
makers. This  is  due  to  a  great  many  reasons, 
though  principally  because  their  energies  and 
character  take  other  lines,  and  the  average 
sailor  is  simple  in  his  wants,  requiring  only  the 
necessities  for  decent  human  existence.  Thus  I 
found  it  with  myself;  I  required  a  pleasant  habi- 
tation, and  I  had  it;  palatable  food,  and  I  had 
it;  decent  raiment,  which  I  already  possessed; 
good  tobacco,  which  I  also  possessed;  and  enough 
money  to  spend  on  necessary  recreation,  and  this 
I  had  too.  I  was  not  at  all  sure  that  I  wanted  to 
retire  from  the  sea,  since  I  was  as  sure  as  one  can 
be  of  anything  on  this  earth  of  a  pleasant  ship 
and  an  old  friend  as  commander.  I  discovered 
Captain  Hawks  gazing  at  me  with  a  whimsical 
smile,  and  somewhat  guiltily  I  assumed  a  brighter 
expression  and  glanced  at  Wilfred,  who,  in  de- 
fiance of  all  etiquette,  still  sat  in  a  cabin  chair. 
The  little  man's  attitude  and  expression  de- 
picted solemn  preoccupation. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Timothy  Hanks,  "for  myself, 
I  am  deeply  grateful." 

I  hastily  echoed  these  sentiments,  while  Cap- 


258  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

tain  Esterkay  glided  in,  as  it  were,  with  a  neat 
and  courteous  speech. 

"I'll  found  a  horphanage,"  said  Wilfred, — 
"sailor's  horphanage  with  pictures  on  the  wall!" 


CHAPTER  XH 

DISAPPEARANCE   OF   CAPTAIN   HAWKS 

To  those  who  have  never  experienced  a  walk 
through  a  tropical  jungle,  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  convey  any  adequate  picture  of  an  Amazon 
forest.  There  were  one  or  two  Indian  trails  lead- 
ing up  from  the  shores  of  the  lake  to  the  hidden 
waterfall  that  had  at  first  puzzled  us  with  its 
sound.  Upon  either  side  and  above  the  head  the 
verdure  was  compact  and  impenetrable;  the  trail 
was  not  unlike  a  tunnel  bored  through  solid  rock, 
and  was  almost  as  dark.  On  a  full  blazing  noon- 
day the  light  was  here  reduced  to  the  darkness 
of  evening,  though  once  through  the  undergrowth 
that  fringed  the  lake  the  trail  entered  the  forest 
proper,  where  a  deep,  church-like  gloom  prevailed. 
On  all  sides,  and  as  far  as  it  was  possible  to  see, 
the  great  tree-trunks  rose  in  regiments  bearing 
aloft  a  thatch  of  green  so  close  and  interwoven  as 
to  permit  no  ray  of  sunlight  to  enter.  The  sound 
of  the  frequent  deluges  of  tepid  rain  crashing 
downwards  in  a  long-sustained  roar  was  star- 
tling, while  the  knowledge  that  upon  all  sides  one 
might  come  upon  sudden  and  swift  danger  in 
animal  or  reptilian  form  kept  one  keenly  upon 


260  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

the  alert.  Thus,  even  upon  the  most  casual  ex- 
pedition one  carried  a  gun  as  a  matter  of  course. 
The  forest  thinned  in  places,  and  these  areas 
of  light  attracted  the  eye  and  steps,  but  for  the 
most  part  the  gloom  was  even  in  its  sombre  in- 
tensity, and  would,  I  felt  sure,  have  driven  me 
to  insanity  in  a  very  short  tune. 

One  of  my  first  visits  ashore  was  to  the  Indian 
village,  and  I  went  there  with  Wilfred,  who, 
with  the  mysterious  power  some  men  have,  was 
already  upon  the  best  of  terms  with  the  inhab- 
itants, and  most  particularly  with  the  children. 
The  village  was  in  a  clearing  and  pleasantly 
scented  with  wood  smoke.  The  "houses'*  were 
but  thatched  roofs  of  palm  raised  upon  bare  poles, 
with  a  complete  and  innocent  lack  of  privacy. 
Our  arrival  was  the  signal  for  a  general  stampede 
of  copper-skinned  youngsters,  who  came  shriek- 
ing and  laughing  toward  us,  while  their  mothers, 
busy  over  domestic  matters,  called  peremptory 
orders  to  then*  offspring,  who  paid  not  the 
least  attention.  And  this  total  lack  of  fear  in 
the  children1]  for  strange  men  of  another  race 
spoke  eloquently,  so  I  thought,  of  the  formid- 
able weapon  which  their  parents  used  with  such 
deadly  skill!  Wilfred  had  come  armed  with 
sugar  candies  of  his  own  perfect  manufacture,  and 
these  he  threw  into  the  air,  the  children,  with 
immense  chatteration  and  glee,  catching  them  in 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    261 

their  little  brown  fists,  as  pretty  a  sight  as  one 
could  wish  to  see.  Some  were  only  staggering 
toddlers,  others  were  long-limbed  as  deer,  and 
upon  them  all  was  stamped  the  signs  of  a  free  in- 
dependence —  the  independence  of  the  blowgun. 
And  when  the  candy  was  consumed,  we  moved 
about  festooned  with  children,  who  found  us  a 
great  joke.  These  were  happy  people,  splendidly 
naked  and  purely  unashamed;  here  was  law, 
order,  and  decency  —  I  was  glad  for  ourselves 
that  they  could  not  see  any  slum  in  New  York 
or  London ! 

I  discovered  that  an  interchange  of  ideas  was 
possible  by  means  of  signs,  and  was  thus  shown 
many  matters  of  interest  by  the  few  men  who 
happened  to  be  about  while  Wilfred  played  with 
the  children.  Among  other  things  I  was  spell- 
bound by  a  sight  of  the  blowgun  in  action.  I 
explained  my  desire  in  this  direction,  and  a  man 
took  me  a  little  way  into  the  forest  carrying  his 
blowgun,  which  he  first,  with  a  polite  gesture, 
gave  me  into  my  hands  to  examine.  The  darts  he 
also  showed  me,  but  these  I  examined  only  out- 
wardly, and  I  did  not  remove  them  from  the 
small  gourd  which  was  slung  upon  his  hip.  We 
had  not  long  to  wait  before  a  drove  of  monkeys 
came  flying  through  the  upper  branches,  and  the 
Indian  delicately  inserted  a  dart  into  the  mouth" 
piece  of  his  blowgun,  raised  the  weapon,  and  with 


262  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

the  same  casual  aim  that  an  expert  with  a  re- 
volver or  rifle  seems  to  take,  he  blew  a  sharp 
breath  into  the  gun,  rather  after  the  manner  of 
a  man  sounding  a  sharp  staccato  note  upon  a 
coach  horn.  The  monkeys  passed  on,  and  we  fol- 
lowed, and  in  less  than  half  a  minute  one  of 
them  fell  and  was  quickly  dispatched  by  the 
Indian,  who  carried  it  home  for  dinner,  for 
deadly  as  the  curare  is  it  is  harmless  as  milk 
unless  the  skin  is  broken.  All  the  same,  I  would 
not  have  eaten  that  monkey,  though  I  was  glad 
that  his  poor  little  life  had  not  been  sacrificed 
purely  for  my  curiosity.  But  the  sight  of  that 
blowgun  in  action  brought  home  very  vividly  our 
peculiar  position.  To  walk  about  unharmed  amid 
these  remote  people  had  an  exhilarating  effect 
upon  the  nerves  that  is  hard  to  describe. 

As  soon  as  it  became  definitely  known  that 
we  had  axes,  knives,  machetes,  brightly  painted 
calico,  looking-glasses,  tobacco  of  a  new  sort  (the 
Indians  smoked  a  wild  tobacco),  beads,  nails, 
and  some  carpenter's  tools,  a  great  assortment 
of  small  glittering  objects  such  as  the  trimmings 
used  on  Christmas  trees,  together  with  needles 
and  thread,  and  that  we  had  these  things  ready 
to  exchange  for  the  golden  nuggets  and  float- 
gold,  the  market  opened  in  a  brisk  and  lively 
fashion.  But  the  most  valued  of  all,  and  that 
which  exchanged  readily  for  the  most  gold,  was 


HE  BLEW  A  SHARP  BREATH  INTO  THE  GUN 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    263 

a  phonograph  with  a  dozen  records.  This  instru- 
ment of  torture  actually  fetched  (at  a  rough  esti- 
mate) between  seven  and  eight  thousand  dollars 
worth  of  gold  out  of  the  hidden  stream  beds 
of  that  extraordinary  country!  The  scenes  on 
board  the  Martin  Connor  were  startling  and  full 
of  humour.  We  had  stumbled,  by  accident,  upon 
an  inequality  in  the  value  of  a  scarce  metal,  and 
we  brought  undreamt-of  delights  that  were  as 
common  to  us  as  the  gold  was  to  the  Indians. 
The  situation  was  so  essentially  bizarre,  fantas- 
tic, and  extravagant  that  no  one,  not  even  the 
captain,  could  remain  wholly  normal  or  re- 
strained. We  were  making  our  fortunes  in  a 
fairy-story  manner  while  dealing  with  an  un- 
known race  of  people,  and  while  handling  the 
commonest  and  most  mundane  of  articles.  Thus 
the  temptation  to  what  might  be  described  as 
"playing  the  fool"  was  often  too  great  to  be 
resisted,  especially  with  such  natural-born  hu- 
mourists as  Wilfred  and  Captain  Esterkay  to 
lead  the  way.  We  did  a  most  tremendous  busi- 
ness, a  business  to  turn  giddy  the  most  experi- 
enced wheat  operator  in  all  the  world,  and  this 
upon  the  iron  decks  of  a  cargo  steamer  at  anchor 
amid  alligators  in  an  unmapped  lake  in  a  vast 
and  terrible,  unknown  country. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Wilfred  and  I  began  a 
series  of  wandering  investigations  that  were  the 


264  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

outcome  of  curiosity  and  not  in  the  least  due  to 
any  desire  to  kill.  The  fresh-meat  supply  was 
most  adequately  attended  to  by  Timothy  Hanks, 
and  in  our  explorations  of  the  forest  there  was  no 
necessity  for  Wilfred  or  myself  to  carry  arms 
except  for  self-defence.  Armed  with  machetes 
and  repeating  shotguns  we  spent  many  hours  to- 
gether, speaking  seldom,  moving  slowly,  and  in 
any  direction  which  fancy  directed.  When  we 
seated  ourselves  and  remained  motionless  for  a 
short  time,  the  strange  creatures  that  swarmed 
in  the  jungle  that  was  so  unknown  to  man 
would  continue  their  ordinary  life  to  our  intense 
interest  and  occasional  alarm.  For  it  is  amazing 
how  oblivious  to  man  a  really  wild  animal  is  so 
long  as  a  man  is  to  leeward  and  motionless.  After 
many  experiments  in  photography,  Wilfred  was 
forced  to  leave  his  camera  behind,  for  the  slight- 
est movement  and  the  click  of  the  shutter  would 
either  frighten  the  game  or  endanger  ourselves, 
while  the  gloom  of  the  forest  rendered  any  in- 
stantaneous work  practically  impossible  with  an 
ordinary  camera. 

This  crowded  mass  of  life  was  astounding. 
Used  as  we  were  to  the  man-trodden  lands,  this 
plenitude  of  creatures,  living  lives  of  intense 
activity  and  dying  almost  invariably  violent 
deaths,  was  very  extraordinary.  Violence  was 
the  predominant  note.  In  the  fantastic  glades, 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    265 

often  draped  with  priceless  orchids,  there  was 
continual  activity  and  poignant  tragedy  in  an 
unending  struggle  for  existence.  This  will  to  live, 
this  insistence  of  mysterious  forces  amid  such 
difficulty  and  against  such  continual  treachery 
and  violence,  was  bewildering  and  in  some 
ways  rather  shocking. 

Along  the  shores  of  the  lake  we  found  water 
and  semi-water  dwellers  that  scuttled,  ran, 
splashed,  dived,  or  stood  ready  for  battle  accord- 
ing to  their  natures,  and  Wilfred  and  I  trod 
warily.  On  the  higher  ground  was  another  world 
of  life,  and  I  could  not  give  the  names  of  the 
creatures  as  we  discovered  them,  or  as  they  dis- 
covered us,  in  rotation,  for  I  was  never  one  to 
keep  a  journal,  the  ship's  official  log  amply 
satisfying  any  natural  tendency  I  had  at  that 
time  for  recording  things  on  paper.  Timothy 
Hanks,  on  the  other  hand,  kept  a  most  minute 
diary  bristling  with  scientific  names  which  he 
was  at  pains  to  acquire,  and  to  Hanks  I  am  in- 
debted that  I  can  put  a  handle  to  the  odd  beasts 
that  we  saw. 

One  day,  seated  upon  a  fallen  tree,  we  beheld 
a  creature  that  was  entirely  new  to  us  both.  It 
was  about  twenty  inches  long  including  a  six- 
inch  tail,  and  it  had  the  appearance  of  a  gigan- 
tic armour-plated  rat.  It  came  titupping  along 
quite  unsuspectingly  down  an  open  glade  in  the 


266  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

forest,  preoccupied  with  daily  affairs,  and  with 
the  manner  of  a  man  who  has  just  comfortable 
time  to  catch  a  train.  He  disregarded  us  alto- 
gether, for  we  remained  without  moving  and  he 
passed  to  windward  of  us,  a  compact,  competent- 
looking  animal  that  knew  his  way  about.  He 
was,  so  we  afterwards  found  out,  an  armadillo. 
Monkeys  there  were  in  crowds.  They  came  fly- 
ing through  the  upper  stories  of  the  forest  with 
the  rapidity  of  birds,  and  when  they  chose,  their 
progress  was  incredibly  silent,  while  at  other 
times  they  came  crashing  along  with  shouts  and 
chatteration  like  a  lot  of  children  let  out  of  school. 
Their  agility  was  startling  and  miraculous.  Their 
leaps  through  the  air  gave  the  lie  direct  to  the 
theory  of  gravity,  and  defied  even  Wilfred's  vo- 
cabulary of  ejaculation.  They  would  sail  through 
space  in  a  line  as  direct  and  accurate  as  that  of  an 
arrow,  or  they  would  drop  down  and  down  like 
a  stone,  and  while  you  watched  with  growing 
alarm  for  the  monkey's  safety,  his  line  of  direc- 
tion would  change  in  a  twinkle,  and  by  means 
of  a  dextrous,  perfectly  calculated  clutch  at  a 
branch,  he  would  be  off  again  at  an  acute  angle 
to  his  former  course.  And  the  swaggering  ease, 
born  of  long  practice,  which  accompanied  these 
evolutions,  was  comic  to  see.  As  Wilfred  said: 
"They  done  that  before." 
Then  there  was  a  tree-climbing  porcupine  with 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    267 

a  long  tail,  the  whole  beast  being  about  three 
and  a  half  feet  long.  He  showed  not  the  least 
alarm  at  our  appearance,  but  regarded  us  with 
the  same  frank  curiosity  with  which  we  regarded 
him.  He  actually  remained  where  he  was  while 
we  diverted  our  line  of  progress  to  avoid  him. 

The  birds  I  cannot  give  in  detail,  for  I  am  very 
ignorant  of  birds  and  am  only  sure  of  the  common 
seagull,  the  sparrow,  and  the  crow.  But  there 
were  parrots  in  a  large  variety,  and  especially 
numerous  was  one  species  that  made  a  noise  such 
as  a  circular  saw  might  make  while  attacking  a 
grindstone.  That  bird  would  have  been  of  use  in 
a  ship  in  thick  weather. 

The  coati-mondi  was  also  new  to  us,  though  of 
course  we  knew  of  his  existence.  But  here  I  must 
emphasise  the  extraordinary  difference  there  is 
between  animals  in  captivity  and  the  same  ani- 
mals at  large  living  their  normal  life  under  what 
I  understand  is  called  the  stimulus  of  danger.  The 
coati-mondi  was  brown-furred  and  snug;  he  lived 
and  had  his  being  in  a  perfectly  fitting  motor 
coat;  he  was  a  highly  competent  animal  with  an 
irritable  eye.  We  saw  only  one,  and  he  was  com- 
ing head  foremost  down  a  tree  —  he  was  trotting 
with  entire  comfort  perpendicularly  downwards 
—  and  snuffling  as  though  he  had  a  cold  in  his 
head.  He  did  not  see  us,  for  we  remained  stand- 
ing still,  and  as  he  happened  to  pass  us  on  the 


268  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

weather  side  he  went  by  quite  close  and  entirely 
preoccupied,  still  snuffling. 

"Useyerpockerankercher!"  said  Wilfred;  and 
at  the  sound  of  the  strange  human  voice  the 
beast  jumped  a  foot  in  the  air,  then  down  again 
and  vanished. 

But  the  strangest  thing  we  saw  was  an  ant- 
eater.  He  looked  like  a  mistake  or  the  product 
of  a  dream.  He  did  not  carry  a  brown  haystack 
on  his  back  like  the  anteaters  I  have  seen  in  cap- 
tivity, but  was  clipped  short  as  though  from  a 
recent  hair  cut.  He  looked  powerful,  and  in  spite 
of  his  really  impossible,  tubular  head,  he  had  an 
affable,  really  humorous  gleam  in  his  artificial 
sort  of  eye.  He  did  not  look  either  real  or  likely, 
but  he  was  real  all  right. 

There  were  also  sloths  and  many  small,  rat- 
like  creatures  which,  in  violent  contrast  to  the 
sloths,  were  always  in  a  hurry.  Of  course  we  did 
not  see  all  these  animals  at  once.  We  saw  them 
on  different  occasions,  for  we  set  out  with  the 
deliberate  intention  of  seeing  them,  and  some- 
times I  am  afraid  we  did  not  know  what  man- 
ner of  creatures  we  were  looking  at  until  we 
returned  to  the  ship  and  described  them  to  Tim- 
othy Hanks,  who  would  usually  give  them  a 
long  Latin  name. 

But  the  sight  of  all  sights  we  saw  one  day  in  a 
narrow  glade,  and  it  was  a  sight  that  still  comes 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    269 

to  me  in  my  dreams  and  wakes  me  with  its  horror. 
It  was  in  a  narrow,  natural  alleyway  through 
the  thick  undergrowth  that  fringed  the  lake, 
where  we  were  forced  to  walk  one  behind  the 
other.  Wilfred  happened  to  be  leading,  and  he 
stopped  suddenly  and  stepped  back  a  foot  or  two 
in  intense  astonishment.  We  were  then  getting 
used  to  surprises,  and  at  this  evidence  of  shock 
in  one  not  easily  disturbed,  I  quite  instinctively 
brought  my  repeating  shotgun  readily  to  my 
shoulder.  Gazing  over  my  small  companion's 
head  and  down  the  narrow  glade,  my  eyes  en- 
countered a  five-foot  pile  of  snake. 

"Oh,  my!  'Ow  shockin'!"  gasped  Wilfred;  and 
indeed  the  sight  was  shocking. 

On  the  top  of  that  living  pile  was  the  snake's 
head  and  therefore  almost  on  a  level  with  ours, 
and  he  looked  at  us  with  wide,  unblinking  green 
eyes,  just  as  though  he  had  been  expecting  us  and 
was  awaiting  our  arrival.  For  a  moment  or  so 
sheer  incredulity  held  us,  and  then,  without  a 
thought  to  our  usual  policy  of  non-interference, 
and  as  I  happened  to  have  the  gun,  I  stepped  in 
front  of  Wilfred.  My  sensations  were  entirely 
primitive  and  unreasoning.  The  snake,  if  you 
come  to  think  of  it  quite  logicaljy,  had  as  much 
right  there  as  we  had,  but,  by  the  same  token,  as 
he  was  certain  to  try  and  kill  us  if  he  could, 
so  had  we  every  right  to  try  and  kill  him.  In 


270  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

other  words,  this  was  war.  The  impulse  that 
directed  us  —  Wilfred,  myself,  and  that  pre- 
posterous monster  of  a  snake  —  must  have  gone 
back  a  very  long  way,  to  the  ages  when  creatures 
struggled  for  supremacy.  No  doubt  we  were  as 
detestable  to  the  snake  as  the  snake  was  to  us,  and 
in  us  every  fibre  of  our  being  rose  up  in  horror  at 
the  sight,  and  the  death  of  either  Wilfred,  myself, 
or  the  snake  was  a  foregone  conclusion.  The 
snake  was  looking  me  in  the  eyes,  and  its  terri- 
ble stare  was  unswerving  and  implacable.  The 
markings  upon  its  head  suggested  an  expression 
of  hatred;  this  was  accident,  of  course,  or,  at  least, 
perhaps  it  was;  anyway,  that  expression  had  no 
little  effect  upon  both  Wilfred  and  myself.  We 
were  both,  actually,  terrified,  nor  am  I  ashamed 
to  confess  it,  for  you  must  recollect  that  the 
girth  of  this  snake  at  its  thickest  was  as  great  as 
the  circumference  of  a  strong  man's  thigh.  It 
formed  an  immense  pile  of  thick,  weighty  coils 
that  appeared,  at  first,  to  be  motionless,  while 
the  effect  produced  was  certainly  heightened  by 
the  deep  green  gloom  of  the  forest.  The  terror 
that  undoubtedly  attacked  us  both  was  in  every 
way  precisely  that  which  affects  birds  and  rab- 
bits when  under  the  influence  of  snakes  of  a 
lesser  power;  but  we  had  the  God-sent  reasoning 
faculty  of  man  to  help  us,  the  reasoning  power 
that  warned  us  to  combat  this  terror  and 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    271 

which  had  given  us  the  shotgun  in  my  hand. 
Therefore  I  waited,  knowing  my  power  to  kill. 
Such  a  sight  one  seldom  sees,  for  it  is  obviously 
not  possible  to  capture  the  largest  species  of  boa- 
constrictor  such  as  this,  and  I  had  every  intention 
of  taking  it  all  in.  As  the  snake  looked  at  me,  its 
eyes  seemed  to  drive  at  one  with  the  same  em- 
phasis as  a  levelled  rifle  barrel,  and  with  regard 
to  the  direction  of  its  gaze  I  afterwards  noted  a 
curious  fact.  Wilfred  maintained  that  the  snake 
gazed  at  him  unswervingly  and  not  at  me.  There- 
fore I  am  not  afraid  to  say  that  there  must  have 
been  some  hypnotic  influence  at  work,  for  the 
snake  could  not  have  looked  us  both  in  the  eyes 
at  the  same  time. 

The  light,  as  I  have  said,  was  bad,  so  I  ap- 
proached a  step  or  two  entirely  enthralled  with 
the  almost  overpowering  repulsiveness  of  so  ter- 
rible a  reptile,  and  the  eyes  of  the  snake  never 
seemed  to  leave  mine.  The  scales  of  the  skin 
were  dappled,  and  though  I  had  at  first  thought 
them  motionless,  I  discovered,  with  a  sudden 
shock,  that  the  snake  was  slowly  unentangling 
itself  with  a  smooth,  gliding  motion  that  was 
common  to  all  its  dreadful  length.  I  lost  no 
further  time  and  raised  the  gun  afresh,  and  at  a 
comparatively  short  range,  I  aimed  at  the  full 
centre  of  that  wicked  face  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

The  result  was  nothing  short  of  terrific,  and  we 


272  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

turned  and  ran  some  little  distance,  then  halted 
and  turned  about,  battling  with  a  panic  that  was 
hard  to  resist.  Again  I  took  aim  while  that  vast 
reptile  thrashed  the  forest  in  its  death  agony 
with  the  power  of  a  ship's  propeller.  Up  the 
tunnel-like  glade  was  that  incredibly  violent, 
twisting  mass,  tangling  and  straightening  and 
tangling  again  in  supreme,  blind  ferocity.  In  the 
midst  of  its  horrible  convulsions,  which  must  have 
been  only  muscular  activity  and  not  the  energy 
of  life,  it  straightened  with  the  quickness  of  a 
whiplash  and  came,  with  great  rapidity,  down 
the  glade  toward  us.  I  gave  it  another  shot  into 
the  pulped  mass  that  was  once  its  shocking  head. 

The  snake's  body  stopped  at  the  impact  and 
contracted  like  a  depressed  spring,  then,  as 
startlingly  as  a  released  spring,  it  shot  forward 
again  and  lay  twisting  slightly  as  dead  snakes 
will. 

"It  takes  a  fair  deal  to  shake  me,"  said  Wilfred, 
wiping  the  sweat  off  his  forehead  with  his  hand, 
"but  I'll  admit  I'm  shook  this  time!  Sech 
things  as  that  'ere  serpint  did  n't  ought  to  be,  no, 
they  did  n't!  It  makes  a  man  indignant!" 

We  waited  a  long  time;  then  we  measured  the 
snake  and  it  was  twenty-four  feet  seven  inches  in 
length  without  its  head  and  maybe  a  foot  of  its 
neck,  or  whatever  that  part  is  called  that  con- 
nects the  head  with  the  rest  of  it.  Though  larger 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    273 

snakes  have  been  killed  in  the  Amazon,  I  do  not 
wish  to  see  them.  Anyway,  though  neither  Wil- 
fred nor  myself  is  a  timid  man,  we  discontinued, 
for  a  time,  our  forest  wanderings. 

"Ship's  good  enough  for  me,"  remarked  Wil- 
fred. "I'll  stay  aboard  an'  paint  the  galley;  it 
needs  it." 

Meanwhile,  trading  operations  continued 
briskly.  The  gold  came  from  stream  beds  several 
days'  travel  to  the  west,  and  owing  to  the  difficul- 
ties that  the  forest  presented  to  a  white  man,  and 
to  the  cheapness  of  the  gold,  we  made  no  attempt 
to  gather  it  ourselves,  and  were,  not  unnaturally, 
content  to  continue  our  system  of  barter.  The 
Indians  remained  quite  content  with  affairs  and 
trooped  off  after  more  gold  with  energy  and  some 
amusement.  WTiy  we  should  want  this  more  or 
less  useless  stuff  they  did  not  bother  to  find  out, 
and  their  attitude  was  not  unlike  what  the  atti- 
tude of  any  American  community  would  be  did 
there  arrive  some  extraordinary  strangers  willing 
to  barter  objects  of  practically  priceless  worth 
for  some  cheap  and  more  or  less  easily  come-by 
mineral  deposit.  Therefore  I  doubt  if  any  ship's 
company,  since  the  days  of  the  infamous  Sir 
Henry  Morgan,  ever  earned  such  money  as  we 
did,  for  every  man  was  to  draw  his  share  of  the 
total  according  to  his  service  rendered.  And 
then,  quite  suddenly,  the  trading  stopped. 


274  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

I  do  not  think  that  the  gold  supply  had  given 
out,  but  that  the  Indians  had  as  many  axes, 
knives,  and  so  on  as  they  wished.  The  Indians 
with  whom  we  had  been  trading  were  only  one 
tribe  in  a  race,  and  having  acquired  as  much 
property  as  they  could  carry  about,  they  now 
wished  to  kill  the  trade  in  order  that  none  of  their 
friends  or  enemies  should  benefit  as  they  had 
done  by  our  unexpected  arrival.  This  may  have 
been  childish  pride,  but  I  fancy,  myself,  that  it 
was  high  strategy  and  statecraft.  In  vain  did 
the  captain  argue  and  in  vain  did  he  tempt, 
the  Indians  only  shook  their  heads  politely  and 
remained  immoveable.  Moreover,  with  equal 
politeness,  they  now  desired  our  departure;  the 
incident,  in  the  words  of  the  British  Parliament, 
was  now  closed.  It  was  tantalising,  or  rather 
would  have  been  tantalising,  had  the  ship  not 
been  netting  an  average  of  ten  thousand  dollars 
a  day  for  some  time;  and  recollecting  the  story 
about  the  dog  with  a  bone,  Captain  Hawks  ac- 
cepted the  inevitable,  for  the  Blowgun  Indians 
were,  without  possibility  of  doubt,  masters  of  the 
situation  —  such  was  the  power  of  curare. 

So  we  organised  a  grand  entertainment  to 
round  off  our  stay  in  that  unforgettable  country, 
an  entertainment  in  which  the  Indians  took  part. 
It  was  quite  a  social  evening,  with  free  food, 
music,  and  fireworks.  These  last  were  some 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    275 

signal  rockets  and  flares  which  we  let  off  in 
honour  of  the  occasion.  After  the  Indians  had 
sung  and  danced,  or  rather  droned  and  hopped, 
an  expert  with  the  accordion  from  the  forecastle 
rendered  some  ancient  sea  ditties,  the  crew  roar- 
ing the  chorus  in  right  good  style.  Captain 
Hawks  distributed  a  large  number  of  presents* 
and  the  Indians  presented  us  with  four  canoes 
and  a  quantity  of  curios;  Captain  Esterkay  per- 
formed some  conjuring  tricks,  to  the  intense 
amusement  of  the  Indians  and  forecastle  alike; 
Wilfred  prepared  a  vast  quantity  of  food,  which 
our  Indian  guests  ate  till  they  could  eat  no 
more;  Twocents  challenged  any  Indian  to  a 
contest  of  acrobatics  and  beat  them  all  to  a 
standstill,  which  is  saying  a  good  deal;  and  I  was 
persuaded  into  singing  that  most  exquisite  of  all 
sea  songs,  "Tom  Bowling,"  to  the  ill-concealed 
dismay  and  embarrassment  of  the  assembled  com- 
pany. We  had  the  ship  gay  with  lights,  and  the 
scene  was  curious  and  interesting,  for  we  were 
crowded  and  swarming  with  naked  savages  who 
were  obviously  of  a  fighting  breed.  Yet  the  best  of 
humour  prevailed,  and  we  were  all  genuinely  sorry 
to  say  good-bye.  The  colonel  was,  I  know,  for 
the  Indians  had  done  more  than  trade  with  him. 
They  had  saved  his  life  and  had  refrained  from 
eating  him,  and  what  more  could  any  man  wish ! 
When  they  finally  departed  and  were  embarked 


276  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

in  their  canoes,  they  surrounded  the  ship  just  out 
of  range  of  the  lights  and  all  together  they  sang 
some  Indian  chant.  The  effect  was  splendid  in  its 
dramatic  quality,  and  after  a  moment  of  awed 
silence  we  cheered  those  Indians  three  times  over 
at  the  top  pitch  of  our  lungs. 

Next  day  there  was  not  so  much  as  the  shadow 
of  an  Indian  to  be  seen  in  the  neighbourhood. 

There  now  lay  before  us  the  difficult  journey 
down  to  Para.  From  where  we  then  were  to 
Manaos  was  practically  enemy's  country,  through 
which  there  was  but  one  road,  which  we  must 
take,  and  along  which  the  Rio  Maranon  Com- 
pany was  bound  to  be  waiting  for  us.  They  could 
wait,  too,  indefinitely,  while  time  was  everything 
to  us.  It  was  a  difficult  situation,  and  I  fancy 
even  Captain  Hawks  was  perplexed  with  the 
future.  As  for  our  crew,  they  openly  prayed  that 
a  downright  struggle  would  come,  and  in  this 
they  were  not  disappointed. 

According  to  the  colonel,  there  was  another 
entrance  to  the  lake  which  would  serve  us  better 
than  the  narrow  river  we  had  ascended,  and 
though  the  current  of  this  second  waterway  was 
very  swift  there  was  greater  width  and  depth. 
So  early  next  day,  Captain  Hawks,  Captain 
Esterkay,  the  colonel,  and  two  men  went  off  in 
the  launch  to  explore.  They  expected  to  be  away 
all  day,  and  meanwhile  the  command  of  the  ship 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    277 

fell  to  me,  and  I  was  busy  over  the  details  of  our 
departure.  I  sent  Timothy  Hanks  off  to  get  in  a 
large  supply  of  fresh  meat,  and  with  the  assist- 
ance of  'Arry  Ketchold  I  overhauled  the  ship. 
That  day  was  full  of  detail  both  for  Mr.  Mc- 
Lushley  and  myself,  and  the  time  passed  quickly 
enough.  Evening  came  and  darkness,  but  no 
sign  of  the  explorers  in  the  launch.  Their  non- 
appearance,  however,  did  not  disturb  me,  for  I 
knew  the  great  uncertainty  that  must  always 
accompany  travel  in  an  unexplored  country. 
The  evening  passed,  the  night  advanced,  mid- 
night came  and  went.  We  mounted  a  bright 
spherical  light  upon  the  foremast  to  guide  the 
wanderers,  who  did  not  show  up.  It  was  not 
until  daylight  next  day  that  I  grew  uneasy,  and 
my  uneasiness  turned  to  alarm  when  noon  ar- 
rived without  the  return  of  the  captain  and  his 
party.  Then,  as  commander  of  the  ship,  I  called 
an  informal  council  of  war  consisting  of  Timothy 
Hanks  and  Mr.  McLushley. 

"I  think,"  said  I,  "that  it  may  be  assumed 
that  something  has  happened  to  the  captain  and 
his  party.  Since  the  colonel  is  one  of  that  party, 
a  man  with  wide  experience  of  these  parts,  it  may 
be  also  assumed  that  what  has  happened  to  them 
is  no  mere  accident  of  travel.  Therefore,  the 
conclusion  I  have  come  to  is  that  they  have 
fallen  up  against  some  Rio  Maranon  force  which 


278  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

has  taken  them  prisoner.  If,  then,  the  Rio 
Maranon  has  got  them,  we  must  get  them  out." 

"We  must,"  agreed  Mr.  McLushley,  "but  we 
must  proceed  wi'  due  caution.  The  saircum- 
stances  are  unusual,  the  deeficulties  are  prrodee- 
gious,  and  the  consequences  of  a  mistake  are 
awfu'!"  And  the  Scotchman  sat  back  with  the 
satisfied  expression  of  one  who  has  made  an  able 
statement  of  complicated  affairs. 

"I  am  thinkin',"  he  continued  in  the  same 
deliberate  manner,  "that  our  friends  are  in  a 
poseetion  that  can  only  be  tairmed  extraordi- 
nair'  prrecarious ! "  and  he  lit  his  black  pipe  and 
smoked  luxuriously.  "I'm  also  thinkin'  that 
these  Rio  Maranon  people  will  find  their  preeson- 
airs  most  awkward  cattle  to  handle!"  and  he 
chuckled  with  enjoyment.  "Captain  Matthew 
Hawks  a  preesonair!  Eh!  I'm  no'  envying  his 
jailer!" 

After  some  further  discussion  we  decided  that 
I  should  leave  Timothy  Hanks  in  command  of  the 
ship  with  an  unofficial  advisory  partner  in  the 
veteran  McLushley,  a  state  of  affairs  only  possi- 
ble in  such  a  community  as  ours,  and  that  I, 
accompanied  by  Wilfred  and  two  men,  should  go 
in  search  of  Captain  Hawks  and  his  party ;  and  in 
order  that  we  should  be  able  to  move  easily,  that 
we  should  take  one  of  the  Indian  canoes  that  had 
been  presented  to  us. 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    279 

The  crew,  when  they  heard  of  my  intended 
departure,  volunteered  in  a  body  at  my  request 
for  two.  But  the  matter  was  settled  finally  by 
the  fact  that  two  men,  Spillings  and  Peabody  by 
name,  had  learned  to  handle  canoes  during  a 
temporary  residence  in  the  Canadian  Northwest. 
Spillings  and  Peabody  were  Americans  of  more 
than  ordinary  effectiveness  and  were  afraid  of 
nothing  on  .earth  except  the  captain.  They  dis- 
closed the  possession  each  of  a  very  modern  re- 
volver and  plenty  of  ammunition,  which  items 
the  laws  of  the  ship  strictly  forbade  them.  So, 
when  we  eventually  started  off;  what  with  these 
two  delicate  specimens  and  Wilfred  (who  feared 
no  one  on  earth,  not  even  Captain  Hawks),  and 
myself,  we  formed,  I  think,  a  small  but  efficient 
force.  The  crew  gazed  enviously  down  upon  us, 
and  Timothy  Hanks  and  Mr.  McLushley  waved 
us  upon  our  way. 

I  had  a  very  good  idea  of  the  position  of  the 
channel  which  the  captain  had  gone  off  to  explore, 
and  so  directed  a  course  diagonally  across  the 
lake,  and  as  the  afternoon  was  well  upon  its  way 
and  the  sun  already  making  westing,  we  paddled 
hard,  no  easy  labour  in  such  a  climate.  I  had 
disposed  my  crew  with  an  eye  to  their  characters, 
putting  Wilfred  in  the  bow,  Peabody  next  him, 
and  Spillings  next  Peabody,  while  I  occupied  the 
position  in  command  in  the  stern. 


280  THE   MARTIN  CONNOR 

By  the  time  that  night  descended  in  earnest 
the  prospect  of  learning  anything  definite  seemed 
small,  but  we  kept  along,  knowing  that  what  we 
were  about  was  the  only  thing  to  do.  Impercepti- 
bly, and  without  conscious  effort  on  our  part,  the 
canoe  increased  its  speed.  This  continued  for  a 
time  before  we  realised  that  we  must  be  in  the 
grip  of  some  current.  We  had,  by  then,  crossed 
the  narrow  portion  of  the  lake  and  were  skirting 
the  shore,  and  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  emphasise 
the  fact  that  we  were  all  of  us  sailors,  and  not 
used  to  the  navigation  of  rivers.  Thus,  in  our 
ignorance,  we  continued,  satisfied  with  the  help 
that  this  mysterious  current  was  affording.  The 
still  evening  lay  heavy  and  dripping  with  hot 
moisture  in  the  twilight  world,  and  grey  masses 
of  malarial  mists  began  to  rise  from  the  water. 
Along  the  shore  of  the  lake  the  tall  trees  stood 
motionless,  while  the  size  of  the  gigantic  tree- 
ferns  and  the  great  twisted  lianas  and  the  tall 
bunches  of  spear  grass  impressed  us  all  with  a 
sense  of  our  loneliness.  Quite  suddenly,  the  now 
dimly  seen  forest  parted  and  the  canoe,  turning 
sharply,  aimed  for  this  opening  with  a  quick 
sweeping  access  of  speed,  and  a  Babel  of  startled 
exclamations  broke  from  us  as  we  endeavoured, 
too  late,  to  gain  control  of  our  craft. 

'  'Ere!    Full  astern!"  gasped  Wilfred,  as  we 
raked  the  water  with  our  paddles  in  desperation 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    281 

and  without  effect,  for  the  canoe  slid  onwards 
amazingly,  and  like  a  train  entering  a  tunnel, 
shot  into  this  natural,  sluice-like  canal! 

Half  a  moment  of  frantic  work  showed  us  con- 
vincing proof  of  our  helplessness,  and  after  a 
short  panic  of  energy  we  resigned  ourselves  to 
keeping  the  canoe  in  midstream.  The  water 
round  us  had  an  unruffled  glass-like  surface  as  it 
sucked  downwards,  and  as  the  minutes  passed 
it  dawned  upon  us  and  our  ignorance  that  we 
must  be  approaching  a  really  tight  fix.  But 
I  am  afraid  that  such  is  the  innate  boyishness 
of  sailors  that  we  all  thoroughly  enjoyed  the 
experience. 

"People  pay  money  fer  this!"  piped  Wilfred 
in  the  bow,  "at  'ome,  in  Hearl's  Court!  The 
Water  Chute  costs  yer  a  tanner  a  time,  and  'ere 
we  are  'avin'  all  fer  nothink ! " 

The  time  went  by  and  still  brought  no  change. 
Occasionally  we  passed  through  rough  patches  of 
water,  but  we  always  managed  to  keep  our  canoe 
in  line  with  the  current  that  continued  to  carry 
us  onward  at  the  rate  of  a  motor  boat.  I  do  not 
now  know  how  far  we  travelled,  but  I  am  certain 
that  we  went  a  long  way,  quite  fifteen  miles, 
before  there  came  any  change  to  alarm  us.  And 
then  the  water  grew  rougher,  was  heaped  about 
in  a  nasty  way,  and  roared  unpleasantly  in  our 
ears.  Still,  as  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  keep 


282  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

on,  on  we  went,  with  Wilfred  giving  high  whoops 
of  glee  in  the  bow.  And  then,  as  suddenly  as 
we  had  entered  these  rapids,  we  as  suddenly  left 
them,  and  shot  like  an  arrow  over  more  tranquil 
waters,  and  came,  finally,  to  rest  in  a  wide  river 
that  was  black  and  almost  motionless  in  the 
night.  We  should,  I  think,  have  then  realised 
that  we  had  accidentally  escaped  drowning  by  a 
fortunate  chance,  had  not  there  appeared  before 
us  a  sight  that  swept  all  thoughts  of  the  rapids 
from  our  minds. 

Brilliant  with  many  lights,  a  wide-beamed 
river  boat  lay  apparently  at  anchor. 

The  sight  was  a  tonic  to  our  rather  stretched 
nerves.  Wilfred  was  for  immediately  boarding 
the  steamer  without  preliminary  investigation, 
and  as  both  Peabody  and  Spillings  heartily 
agreed,  they  fell  to  paddling  briskly. 

"Stop  the  ship,"  said  I  to  Spillings,  who  was 
immediately  in  front  of  me,  "or  I'll  lay  your 
head  open  with  this  paddle." 

So  Spillings  ceased  work  abruptly  and  im- 
pressed the  necessity  of  doing  the  same  upon 
Peabody,  who,  in  turn,  handed  it  on  to  Wil- 
fred. 

"You  'it  me  ag'in,  Peabody,"  cried  Wilfred, 
"an'  s'  'elp  me  I'll  beat  the  face  orf  yer  the 
moment  we  git  on  dry  mud!" 

"Quit  making  that  row!"  I  ordered;  and  for  a 


THE   WATER  GREW  ROUGRKB 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    283 

moment  or  so  I  thought  out  a  plan  of  action. 
Then  I  spoke. 

"I  am  in  command  of  this,"  said  I,  by  way  of 
reminder,  for  I  knew  the  kind  of  men  I  was  deal- 
ing with,  "and  what  I  say  goes.  We  will  drift 
down  and  have  as  close  a  look  as  we  can,  and 
then  we  may  draw  off  again.  But  we  may  board 
her,  but  no  man  moves  without  orders  from  me, 
and  my  orders  will  be  whispered.  No  man  must 
make  a  sound,  and  I  will  do  the  paddling,  so  ship 
your  oars." 

There  is  no  craft  that  can  be  so  silently  ma- 
noeuvred as  a  canoe,  and  like  a  feather  upon  the 
surface  of  that  slow-moving  water  we  approached 
that  garishly  lit  river  steamer.  At  the  time  I 
wondered  why  she  was  at  anchor,  but  I  did  not 
realise  then  how  far  we  had  come  owing  to  the 
rapids,  which  had  been  in  the  nature  of  a  short 
cut.  In  other  words,  as  all  distances  in  that 
country  are  measured  in  miles  of  navigable 
river,  the  steamer  was  some  forty  miles  from  the 
lake.  She  was  of  the  ordinary  Rio  Maranon 
pattern,  a  light-draught,  two-decked  affair,  with 
deck  cabins  and  with  clear  spaces  fore  and  aft  for 
slinging  hammocks.  The  bright  light  cast  from 
many  oil  lamps  made  a  close  examination  of  her 
easy  enough  from  the  surrounding  darkness,  and 
like  a  shadow  we  drifted  down,  my  paddle  alone 
directing  our  course.  Through  an  open  doorway 


284  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

we  beheld  the  inevitable  card-players.  I  do  not 
think  I  ever  saw  a  Rio  Maranon  river  boat  in 
which  there  was  not  a  group  of  these  futile  wast- 
ers of  time  and  money.  There  was  also  the  usual 
crowd  in  the  bows  and  stern  dozing  and  smoking, 
with  another  lot  of  card-players  bursting  into 
occasional  shouts  as  their  fool  game  proceeded. 
All  the  cabin  doors  were  open  on  the  lower  deck, 
and  so,  with  but  one  exception,  were  they  upon 
the  upper.  And  beside  that  one  closed  door  there 
lounged  a  man  with  a  gun.  As  though  my  eyes 
could  see  through  wood  I  was  satisfied  that 
behind  that  closed  door  were  Captain  Hawks 
and  his  companions.  Then  with  a  few  silent 
strokes  of  the  paddle  I  brought  the  canoe  round 
the  river  boat,  and  there,  sure  enough,  was  our 
motor  launch  moored  alongside.  I  backed  away 
some  little  distance  until  we  could  whisper  in 
safety. 

"Did  you  mark  that  closed  door  with  the 
sentry?"  I  whispered.  "Well,  the  Old  Man  and 
the  rest  are  behind  it.  We  are  going  to  get  'em 
out";  and  in  the  darkness  my  accustomed  eyes 
could  see  a  happy  grin  upon  the  faces  of  my 
companions.  They  looked  like  men  who  had  just 
found  a  ten-dollar  piece.  "We  are  going  along- 
side," I  continued;  "we  shall  go  quickly  and 
quietly.  We  will  go  alongside  just  below  where 
that  sentry  stands  at  the  closed  door.  I  will 


CAPTAIN  HAWKS  DISAPPEARS    285 

climb  aboard  first,  Spillings  will  follow,  then 
Peabody,  then  Wilfred,  and  not  all  together  or 
this  pesky  canoe  '11  turn  over.  Wilfred  will  be  the 
last  man  out,  and  he  will  not  leave  the  ship  until 
Peabody  is  clear." 

"Can't  I  come  out  along  o'  you  an*  'ave  a  go 
at  the  bloke  with  the  gun?"  breathed  Wilfred 
with  some  irritation. 

"No,  you  can't,"  said  I,  with  emphasis. 
"There's  a  stiff  proposition  before  us,  and  it's 
got  to  be  handled  properly  —  see?" 

We  should  not  be  long  climbing  aboard,  but 
all  the  same,  the  moment  of  waiting  for  the  last 
man  would  be  hard  to  bear  and  would  demand 
character  as  well  as  courage. 

"Never  mind  this  canoe,"  I  continued,  "let  her 
go  adrift.  When  I  get  aboard  I  shall  up-end  that 
sentry  and  maybe  his  gun '11  go  off;  that'll  wake 
every  one.  So  never  mind  where  the  bullet  goes, 
but  jump.  If  the  bullet  don't  come  my  way,  I  '11 
put  the  sentry  out  of  action,  and  then  I  shall  make 
a  break  for  the  card-players  there  on  the  upper 
deck  a  little  farther  along.  Wilfred  will  come 
with  me.  Meanwhile,  Spillings  and  Peabody  will 
kick  that  door  down,  and  the  quicker  they  do  it 
the  better.  The  men  on  the  forward  main-deck 
we  can't  attend  to  for  the  moment,  but  they 
won't  know  how  big  a  party  we  are,  and  I  don't 
anticipate  much  trouble  from  them  once  their 


286  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

officers  are  bottled.    Understand  your  orders? 
Very  well,  then.   Come  on!" 

We  may  not  have  been  experts  in  the  naviga- 
tion and  the  handling  of  canoes,  but  we  came 
alongside  that  river  steamer  all  right. 


CHAPTER  XIH 

A   RAID  BY  NIGHT 

I  GRIPPED  the  low  rail  of  the  lower  deck  and 
swung  onto  it,  and  reaching  up  I  caught  the  up- 
per deck  and  repeated  the  process.  No  one  was 
expecting  us,  and  no  one  had  happened  to  see 
us  come  swiftly  alongside.  As  I  came  up  over  the 
rail  of  the  upper  deck  the  sentry  was  in  the  midst 
of  a  yawn,  and  for  a  second  that  yawn  was  frozen 
to  his  face.  The  unfortunate  man  was  rolling  a 
cigarette,  his  rifle,  with  the  butt  to  the  deck,  was 
leaning  in  the  crook  of  his  elbow.  He  was  a  good 
man  that,  and  I  felt  sorry,  in  a  way,  to  hurt  him, 
but  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done.  As  time,  at 
such  moments,  is  measured  in  quarter-seconds,  it 
was  not  physically  possible  to  get  his  rule  up  and 
in  action  before  I  grabbed  him,  and  he  knew  it, 
so  he  turned  his  yawn  into  a  most  powerful  yell. 
But  the  yell,  though  powerful,  did  not  last.  I  got 
him  by  the  ankles  and  up-ended  him  precisely 
with  what  you  might  call  some  swiftness,  his 
head  striking  the  deck  where  before  his  feet  had 
been  resting.  Quick  as  I  may  have  been,  I  hardly 
finished  with  the  sentry  before  I  noted,  out  of  the 
corner  of  my  eye,  Spillings  and  Peabody  going 


288  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

through  the  closed  door.  They  did  not  kick  it, 
they  ran  through  it,  as  was  manifested  after- 
wards by  the  condition  of  their  heads,  and  they 
had  hard  heads  too.  So  by  the  tune  that  I  was 
running  forward,  Wilfred  had  gained  my  side 
with  his  gun  in  his  hand.  We  raced  each  other 
and  arrived  at  the  open  door  of  the  cabin,  wherein 
sat  the  men  at  cards,  with  a  considerable  bump, 
and  Wilfred  happening  to  be  an  inch  or  so  in 
front,  and  being  very  light  while  I  am  heavy, 
and  as  our  impact  together  in  the  doorway  was 
considerable,  the  little  cook  went  flying.  The 
card-players  had  heard  the  sentry's  shout  of 
warning  and  our  approaching  steps  and  had 
risen  to  their  feet;  Wilfred,  unable  to  stop  him- 
self from  collision  in  the  doorway  with  myself, 
arrived  in  their  very  midst  with  an  ear-cracking 
whoop!  Over  went  the  card -table,  the  cards,  the 
drinks,  and  the  money,  and  catching  one  man 
round  the  neck  the  little  Englishman  and  he  went 
down  together  with  a  crack.  But  while  this  hap- 
pened I  shouted,  "Hands  up!"  in  a  loud  voice 
with  purposeful  emphasis  for  effect.  Their  hands 
went  up,  and  meanwhile  Wilfred  bobbed  to  his 
feet  again,  for  he  hardly  seemed  to  touch  the 
ground.  Our  arrival,  especially  Wilfred's,  must 
have  been  a  shock;  and  then  I  discovered  Eich- 
holz  to  be  among  them.  Strange,  indeed,  are 
the  things  we  sometimes  do  without  thought, 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  289 

for  I  nodded  to  Eichholz,  and  Eichholz  nodded 
back ! 

All  this  happened,  of  course,  in  ten  ticks  of  a 
watch,  and  then  there  burst  forth  a  wild  uproar 
from  all  over  the  ship,  punctuated  by  some 
crackle  of  firearms  and  the  mingled  yells  of 
Spillings  and  Peabody,  who  sounded  as  though 
they  had  gone  mad.  What  precisely  happened 
to  those  two  gallant  toughs  I  do  not  know,  but 
the  effect  was  as  if  they  were  having  the  time  of 
their  lives.  Though  the  paid  forces  of  the  Rio 
Maranon  Company  were  not  human  lambs, 
Spillings  and  Peabody,  now  gone  thoroughly 
berserk,  produced  no  little  panic,  and  so  far  my 
plans  had  matured  perfectly.  While  the  four  men 
in  the  cabin  still  stood  with  their  hands  aloft,  I 
was  joined  by  Captain  Hawks,  who,  to  my  relief, 
now  instantly  took  over  entire  command  of  the 
situation. 

With  prompt  alacrity  and  while  confusion 
reigned,  Captain  Hawks  went  amid  those  card- 
players  and  disarmed  them  all  but  Eichholz, 
whom  he  told  to  drop  his  hands.  In  this  manner 
he  acquired  three  revolvers  which  he  handed  to 
Captain  Esterkay  and  the  colonel,  who  arrived  a 
moment  after.  The  two  men  who  had  been  cap- 
tured with  them  had  joined  forces  with  Spillings 
and  Peabody  and  had  armed  themselves  with 
anything  that  came  handy.  And  there  now  came 


290  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

a  surprise  for  Wilfred  and  myself,  to  say  nothing 
of  those  interrupted  gamesters. 

"Eichholz,"  cried  the  captain,  "take  charge  of 
these  men";  and  Eichholz  nodded,  producing  at 
the  same  time  a  revolver  of  which  he  had  not 
been  relieved  like  his  companions.  These  last 
stared  with  blank  dismay  and  growing  rage,  yet 
they  obeyed  his  gesture  to  line  up  by  the  after 
bulkhead. 

"Wilfred,"  continued  the  captain  hurriedly, 
"stay  here  with  Eichholz  and  help  him  to  keep 
these  men  covered";  and  Wilfred,  with  a  gasp  of 
astonishment,  obeyed. 

"  Grummet  and  Esterkay,  aft  with  you.  Don't 
shoot  unless  you  have  to.  Calvin  and  myself  will 
go  forward.  We  must  clear  this  ship." 

But  this  was  easier  said  than  done,  and  not  by 
reason  of  the  resistance  raised  by  the  Rio  Mara- 
non  forces,  but  by  our  own  four  men  who  were  in 
no  mind  to  give  up  their  savage  fun.  Had  the 
Rio  Maranon  men  had  time  to  collect  their  forces, 
they  would,  most  probably,  have  wiped  our  four 
men  out.  But  panic  was  in  charge,  and  they  ran 
and  scattered  wildly  before  the  ferocity  of  Pea- 
body,  Spillings,  and  their  companions.  There- 
fore it  was  first  necessary  to  quell  our  own  men 
into  some  semblance  of  obedience,  and  to  my 
shouted  orders  they  paid  no  heed.  So  I  caught 
Spillings,  who  happened  to  be  nearest,  and  seeing 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  291 

red,  he  promptly  turned  his  attention  to  my- 
self, and  absurd  as  it  may  seem,  away  we  went, 
ding-dong-dell,  amid  a  host  of  our  enemies! 
There  was  no  gentle  hitting  here;  we  hit  for  a 
knock-out,  and  for  a  moment  or  so  Spillings  gave 
me  plenty  to  do.  But  I  have  not  been  a  mate  for 
ten  years  and  a  second  mate  for  longer  still  with- 
out practice  in  the  rough-and-tumble  order  of 
combat.  A  left-handed  swing  sent  Spillings  out; 
and  only  then,  when  I  had  time  and  attention 
to  note  it,  did  I  hear  the  tumultuous  sounds  of 
retreat. 

The  suddenness  of  the  attack  had  more  than 
a  little  to  do  with  our  victory,  and  with  those  in 
command  captured  and  prevented  from  exerting 
their  moral  influence,  and  with  the  four  men 
running  berserk  in  their  midst,  the  crew  of  the 
river  boat  turned  in  retreat  and  escaped  any  way 
they  could,  some  actually  diving  into  the  alli- 
gator-infested waters  of  the  river.  The  whole 
incident  I  do  not  think  can  have  lasted  more  than 
five  minutes,  and  what  was  equally  astonishing 
was  that  so  far  as  I  know  no  one  was  killed. 
Minor  injuries,  of  course,  were  sustained  on  both 
sides.  The  sentry  I  had  up-ended,  and  who,  in 
consequence,  had  not  been  able  to  retreat  with 
his  companions,  we  put  with  nis  card-playing 
superiors  in  charge  of  Wilfred  and  Eichholz. 
Spillings  and  Peabody,  and  the  other  two  men, 


292  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

were  considerably  knocked  about;  Wilfred  had 
somehow  acquired  a  tremendous  black  eye; 
while  I  discovered  that  I  had  a  violently  bleeding 
nose,  though  where  or  how  I  got  it  I  do  not  know 
unless  it  was  a  present  from  Spillings.  Captain 
Hawks  had  apparently  suffered  in  some  previous 
scrap,  and  Captain  Esterkay  had  a  torn  mouth, 
so  altogether  we  looked  rather  a  hard  crowd. 

But  we  lost  no  time  in  nursing  our  hurts.  The 
four  men  were  sent  down  to  stoke  up  the  wood- 
burning  furnace,  while  the  colonel,  who  could 
do  most  things  more  or  less,  took  charge  of  the 
engines.  Eichholz,  whose  desertion  from  the 
ranks  of  the  enemy  was  still  a  mystery  to  me, 
took  charge  of  the  prisoners  in  the  cabin. 
Captain  Esterkay  took  charge  of  the  forward 
deck,  with  Wilfred  to  help  him  in  slipping  the 
cable  when  the  colonel  announced  sufficient 
steam  to  move.  Captain  Hawks  took  charge  in 
what  did  service  for  a  pilot  house,  while  I,  with 
a  rifle,  stood  ready  in  the  darkness  to  answer 
promptly  any  rule  fire  from  the  bank.  But  the 
men  had  gone  without  their  weapons,  and  in 
total  darkness  we  started  up-stream. 

"Seems  to  me,"  said  the  captain,  a  little  while 
later,  "we  are  not  doing  so  badly.  First  it  was  a 
dog,  then  an  Indian,  then  an  alligator,  and  now 
a  shallow-draught  steamboat.  But  I've  lost  the 
launch,  they  took  it  with  'em  when  they  left  us 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  293 

in  a  hurry.  And  I'm  obliged  to  you,  Grummet; 
I  was  expecting  you."  And  the  captain  placed  a 
cigar  with  some  care  between  his  bruised  lips. 

I  told  him  of  our  descent  of  the  rapids. 

"Say,  Grummet,"  he  remarked  when  I  had 
finished,  "I  guess  it's  only  safe  at  sea!" 

"I  guess  it  is,  sir,"  I  agreed. 

"And  then  you  chanced  across  this  river  boat 
and  just  came  aboard?  "  he  asked  with  a  grin. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Ah,  just  so." 

It  seemed  that  there  were  three  outlets  from 
the  lake:  the  one  we  had  ascended  upon  arrival, 
the  rapids  we  had  descended  in  the  canoe,  and 
the  channel  which  the  captain  had  gone  off  to 
chart.  It  was  after  the  launch  had  descended 
this  third  channel  that  the  captain  and  his  com- 
panions had  come  slap  into  the  arms  of  the  river 
boat,  and  having  been  taken  by  surprise,  and 
after  an  exchange  of  a  few  shots,  he  had  capit- 
ulated to  the  inevitable,  and  they  had  been  im- 
prisoned in  the  deck  cabin.  And  while  they  were 
thus  temporarily  beaten,  Eichholz  had  come  to 
see  them,  which  was  the  first  intimation  the 
captain  had  that  he  was  aboard  the  river  steamer. 

The  moon  had  risen  over  the  trees  upon  the 
port  hand  and  afforded  just  enough  light  for 
Captain  Hawks  to  keep  his  newly  acquired 
vessel  in  midstream.  But  our  draught  was  so 


294  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

slight  that  we  could  take  chances,  for  it  was  our 
purpose  to  return  to  the  lake  and  to  the  Martin 
Connor  as  soon  as  possible.  For  there  was  an 
uneasy  feeling  in  our  hearts,  since  it  had  become 
obvious  that  the  Rio  Maranon  Company  had 
come  so  far  afield  as  to  penetrate  to  the  very 
borders  of  the  Blowgun  Indians'  country. 

"Go  and  take  a  look  round  the  ship  and 
report,"  said  the  captain. 

I  found  Cert'nly  Wilfred  in  the  wooden  shanty 
that  did  duty  as  galley.  He  had  gravitated  there 
as  a  musician  drifts  to  a  piano,  and  he  was  busy 
with  a  dish  of  some  sort  for  all  hands.  He  was 
hilariously  cheerful  and  bustling  with  a  bandage 
over  one  eye  and  with  his  shirt  ripped  down  the 
back.  A  chewed  cigarette  stub  stuck  to  his  lower 
lip  and  wagged  about  while  he  sang :  — 

"  It 's  a  long  way  to  Tipperary, 
It 's  a  long  way  to  go.  .  .  ." 

Colonel  Calvin  was  seated  watching  the  en- 
gines, while  Spillings  and  company  were  taking 
turns  at  stoking. 

"Feel  all  right?"  I  asked  Spillings;  "I  had  to 
hit  you  pretty  hard." 

:*  Yes,  sir,  feel  all  right,  thank  you,  sir,"  grinned 
Spillings,  gazing  at  me  through  one  eye;  "'fraid 
I  did  n't  hear  you  speak  at  first,  sir." 

"You  didn't,  Spillings,  but  you  were  a  bit 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  295 

excited.  You  fight  well,  but  you  neglect  your 
head,  which  I  admit  is  hard  —  as  hard  as  any  I 
ever  hit.  You  gave  me  a  real  live  moment  or  two, 
and  I  have  some  eight-ounce  gloves  in  the  ship; 
we  must  have  a  go." 

"Thank  you,  sir;  I'd  like  nothing  better." 

"No  ill  feelin'  is  there,  Spillings?"  I  asked. 

"Great  snakes!  No,  sir!" 

So  we  shook  hands. 

I  found  Captain  Esterkay  sympathetically 
arranging  a  cold  compress  on  the  head  of  the 
sentry  I  had  up-ended.  I  gave  the  latter  a  cigar 
which  he  instantly  lighted,  so  I  fancy  he  was  not 
badly  hurt. 

In  the  cabin  I  found  a  sterner  mood.  Eich- 
holz,  well  knowing  with  whom  he  had  to  deal 
(and  who  should  have  known  better  than  he?), 
was  seated  at  the  table  with  a  revolver  in  his 
hand.  Seated  in  a  row  before  him  were  his  three 
erstwhile  companions  looking  as  black  as  a 
thundercloud. 

"All  right?"  I  asked  him. 

"Quite,  thank  you,"  he  answered  without 
withdrawing  his  eyes  from  the  three  men.  This 
vigilance  struck  me  as  being  a  little  excessive,  and 
perhaps  I  felt  a  little  sorry  f or  those  three  men. 
They  were  beaten  and  captured,  and  among  de- 
cent men  the  prisoner  of  war  is  treated  more  as 
a  guest  than  a  captive. 


296  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

"Won't  these  gentlemen  give  their  parole?" 
I  asked  Eichholz. 

"Parole! "  exclaimed  Eichholz  in  quiet  wonder. 
Then  he  shook  his  head  with  the  same  sad,  gen- 
tle superiority  of  manner  I  had  found  in  him 
from  the  first.  "You  don't  know  what  you  are 
talking  about.  You  are  not  in  the  United  States 
or  Europe." 

"Still,"  I  objected,  "what  can  they  do?" 

"They  would  give  their  lives  to  kill  me,  Mr. 
Mate,"  was  Eichholz's  reply,  delivered  in  his 
lifeless,  level  voice. 

"  Oh ! "  said  I,  and  grinned  at  him  with  compre- 
hension. 

Eichholz  was,  as  the  saying  is,  getting  a  little  of 
his  own  back,  and  who  knows  how  long  a  bill  he 
had  against  the  Rio  Maranon  and  all  its  officials? 
It  was  an  odd  scene.  Eichholz,  a  most  remark- 
able man,  seated  at  the  table  in  an  easy,  lounging 
attitude  with  a  large  revolver  cocked  ready,  and 
those  three  men  facing  him  across  the  cabin, 
seated  in  chairs  like  three  bad  boys  kept  in  after 
school.  They  twiddled  their  thumbs  in  irritation, 
or  thrust  their  hands  into  their  pockets  and 
scowled,  or  tilted  their  chairs  back  and  showed 
their  teeth,  while  Eichholz  talked  to  them  in  the 
dog-Spanish  of  Amazonia.  I  do  not  know  what 
he  said,  but  I  expect  it  was  powerful!  And  he 
seemed  to  have  a  lot  to  say. 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  297 

I  returned  to  Captain  Hawks  and  reported  all 
well;  then  I  described  to  him  the  scene  in  the 
cabin,  and  he  grinned. 

"Eichholz's  is  a  strange  case,"  said  he.  "The 
older  I  grow  the  more  difficult  I  find  it  to  judge 
people  adversely.  Until  you  know  a  man's  tem- 
perament, surrounding  influences,  and  national 
weaknesses  judgment  is  impossible.  Take  Eich- 
holz.  When  we  were  prisoners  in  that  cabin, 
Esterkay  and  Calvin  feeling  pretty  gloomy,  the 
door  was  opened  and  Eichholz  came  in.  I  did  not 
know  he  was  aboard  until  that  moment,  and  when 
I  saw  him  I  was  more  than  a  little  inclined  to  eat 
him.  He  began  by  saying  that  he  was  going  to 
speak  quickly  in  case  the  sentry  outside  knew  a 
word  or  two  of  English,  which  was  n't  likely.  At 
that  I  knew  that  we  were  going  to  get  out  of  the 
mess  somehow,  for  here  was  obviously  a  traitor 
in  the  camp  of  the  enemy.  It  was,  I  don't  mind 
telling  you,  Grummet,  something  of  a  relief,  for 
in  spite  of  my  own  private  determination  that 
this  would  not  be  my  finish,  I  could  not  help  see- 
ing that  we  were  in  pretty  good  shape  for  our 
funerals.  When  innocent  Americans  can  be  shot 
dead  without  fuss  a  few  hundred  miles  from 
American  territory  in  Mexico,  they  can  be  shot 
dead  without  fuss  'way  at  the  back  of  goodness 
knows  where  in  Amazonia.  I  mean  to  say  a 
word  or  two  concerning  our  Consular  Service, 


298  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

when  I  get  home.  Why,  an  Englishman,  no 
matter  where  he  is,  if  he  gets  into  a  fix,  will 
generally  find  a  British  Consul  round  the  corner 
with  a  battleship  up  his  sleeve  ready  to  help  him 
out.  No;  the  British  know  how  to  look  after 
themselves  and  that's  a  fact;  I  guess  they  have 
made  themselves  so  unpleasant  that  they  have 
learned  how;  and  the  sooner  we  get  a  big  navy 
and  start  making  ourselves  unpleasant  when  we 
have  to,  why,  the  better  it  will  be  for  us.  But  I 
know  what  the  folk  at  home  will  say  in  answer 
to  that.  They'll  say  that  the  United  States  is 
big  enough  and  don't  require  any  more  territory, 
and  therefore  does  not  require  a  navy.  I  guess 
we  'd  better  get  a  navy  —  a  real  navy  that  you 
can  use  in  argument  —  or  we  won't  keep  what 
we've  got  more  than  a  few  generations,  for  the 
world 's  getting  smaller  and  smaller,  and  Europe 
ain't  half  as  dead  as  some  politicians,  who  had 
never  seen  a  street-car  till  they  landed  in  Wash- 
ington, like  to  make  out." 

The  captain  chewed  on  his  cigar  a  moment 
and  grunted  some  words  beneath  his  breath. 

"You  may  have  been  astonished  to  find  Eich- 
holz  our  friend,  but  you  were  no  more  astonished 
than  I  was  at  what  he  had  to  say.  He  came 
plump  out  with  it  too.  He  gave  me  a  shorthand 
account  of  his  life  in  this  country,  and  though  I 
can't  repeat  what  he  said,  because  it  is  private, 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  299 

I  can  tell  you  that  it  shocked  me,  and  I'm  no 
young  ladies'  seminary !  All  that  we  have  heard 
about  this  rubber  business  is  true,  but  we  have  n't 
heard  half.  He  said  that  his  work  was  horrible, 
beyond  endurance;  that  he  was  just  crazy  to  get 
out  of  the  country.  He 's  been  dead  crazy  to  get 
out  of  this  country  for  two  years,  Grummet. 
Their  method  is  to  get  a  man  of  ability,  like 
Eichholz  (he  was  a  doctor  in  Hamburg  with  a 
good  practice,  but  who  got  into  trouble  and  was 
done  for),  offer  him  a  good  salary,  and  ship  him 
up  here.  Then  they  have  him.  To  hold  him 
doubly  sure  he  is  persuaded  by  loneliness,  by 
fever,  by  the  despair  at  the  wreck  of  his  life,  to 
come  into  line  with  their  methods.  Then  if  he 
tries  to  get  away,  they  fall  on  him  and  tell  him 
they  will  hang  him  for  the  atrocities  they  have 
forced  him  to  commit  to  get  rubber.  The  result 
is  that  he's  all  in  pieces." 

I  nodded,  while  a  casual  remark  of  Wilfred's 
that,  "This  'ere  Earoles  seems  to  find  'is-self 
'orrible  to  contemplate,"  struck  me  as  being 
singularly  apt. 

"  So  Eichholz  came  *o  me,  a  prisoner,  and  asked 
me  to  get  him  out  of  the  country !  The  apparent 
foolishness  of  the  request  showed  me  that  he  was 
in  earnest.  He  asked  me  if  I  would  give  him  a 
passage  in  the  Martin  Connor  if  he  helped  us  out 
of  the  fix  we  were  then  in.  You  can  guess  my 


300  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

answer!  Some  particular  jackasses  would  think, 
I  know,  that  the  desire  to  escape  was  my  only 
motive,  but  it  was  n't  Grummet.  I  wanted  to 
get  out  of  the  fix,  of  course,  and  I  was  n't  half- 
dead  either.  The  future  looked  black,  but  I  have 
seen  it  look  blacker,  and  I  have  seen  the  future 
change  remarkably  when  you  kick  and  keep 
right  on  kicking.  No,  I  was  more  pleased  than  I 
can  describe  to  think  that  I  could  help  that  man; 
for  when  all  is  said  and  done  it  is  about  all  there  is 
to  the  business  of  life,  to  help  when  you  can  and 
help  in  the  right  way.  And  there  is  plenty  of 
help  for  the  young  and  promising,  and  for  the 
old  and  past  praying  for,  all  fixed  up  pretty  in 
institutions  and  printed  books,  with  slathers  of 
money  from  the  State  and  the  charitable  though 
lazy-minded.  Here  was  a  man  with  a  past  as 
black  as  your  hat  that  he  had  fallen  and  been 
forced  into.  Of  course  you  can  say  that  you,  or 
I,  or,  say,  Wilfred,  would  n't  have  been  forced. 
Quite  so,  I  agree;  but  because  one  man  can  swim 
a  swollen  river,  it's  no  argument  that  another 
can.  No,  I  sort  of  got  it  into  my  fool  head  that 
there  was  more  than  just  a  commercial  chance 
that  had  brought  me  to  this  country  in  a  full- 
powered  steamer!  I  was  absolutely  sure,  then, 
that  we  should  get  out  of  that  fix,  but  just  how 
we  were  going  to  do  so  I  did  not  know.  Nor  had 
Eichholz  any  very  definite  plan  to  offer,  and  as  it 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  301 

might  look  suspicious  if  he  stayed  too  long  with 
us,  he  went  away  and  promised  to  return  later. 
Of  course,  I  knew  that  you  would  make  a  pretty 
good  try  to  help  us,  but  we  might  have  been  de- 
layed anyway,  so  that  you  would  not  be  likely 
to  start  out  and  look  for  us  until  we  were  more 
than  halfway  back  to  Maloca.  And  this  blame 
hooker  pulled  up  with  engine  trouble  and  we 
anchored  where  you  found  us  while  they  tinkered 
her  up.  By  the  time  they  had  finished,  it  was 
night  and  apparently  they  decided  to  wait  for 
daylight  before  continuing.  Then  I  heard  that 
sentry  let  off  a  yell,  and  the  thud  of  his  head 
hitting  the  deck  sounded  familiar.  "That's 
Grummet  arriving,"  I  thought,  and  next  moment 
Spillings  and  Peabody  came  through  the  door. 
Oh,  I  guess  it  was  all  intended,  like  most  things, 
only  it  was  left  to  us  to  make  either  a  good  job  or 
a  bad  one  according  to  how  much  there  is  in  us ! " 
When,  after  ascending  what  we  had  come  to 
call  the  Western  Passage,  we  hove  in  sight  of 
the  Martin  Connor  in  the  early  hours  of  the  fol- 
lowing day,  our  appearance  —  an  obvious  Rio 
Maranon  river  boat  —  caused  some  excitement. 
As  we  approached  I  saw  Timothy  Hanks  and 
Mr.  McLushley  with  glasses  to  their  eyes.  Then 
suddenly,  Timothy,  that  most  undemonstrative 
young  man,  lifted  his  hat  and  yelled.  We  re- 
plied by  prolonged  blasts  upon  our  whistle.  As 


302  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

we  came  wallowing  alongside  the  crew  shouted 
hilariously,  and  when  you  come  to  think  of  it 
our  return  was  rather  triumphant.  Even  Mr. 
McLushley  grinned  almost  amiably  at  us  and 
exchanged  a  short  nod  with  the  captain. 

"Ye'r  back,  I  see,  Captain  Matthew  Hawks," 
said  he. 

"I  am,  Mr.  McLushley,"  answered  the  cap- 
tain, "and  I  traded  the  launch  for  this  river 
boat." 

"Oh,  ah!  Just  a  wee  trip  for  your  health,  was 
it,  combining  pleasure  wi'  business,  maybe?" 

"  Just  that,  and  a  little  exercise." 

"Oh,  ah!  I  note  that  ye  seem  to  have  run  into 
something  wi'  ye'r  face,  Captain  Hawks." 

"Yes.  I  think  I  remember  brushing  against 
something."  And  the  two  men  laughed  quietly, 
while  their  eyes  shone  as  they  looked  at  each 
other,  and  in  them  was  the  light  of  affection  that 
mocks  the  spoken  word. 

"There'll  be  some  sick  men  doon  the  river?" 

"  Sick  at  heart.  I  have  four  prisoners  with  me." 

"Eh!  Let  me  have  'em  in  the  stoke-hold  to 
shovel  coal  —  it 's  a  grra-and  occupation  in  this 
climate." 

"No,  I  guess  they  have  had  enough." 

"Na.   Nathin"s  enough  for  yon." 

Captain  Hawks  smiled.  "The  Scotch,"  said 
he,  "are  a  great  race,  but  they  are  not  forgiving." 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  303 

We  brought  our  prisoners  aboard,  and  the 
captain  talked  to  them  and  explained  that  we 
should  drop  them  in  one  of  the  ship's  boats  as 
we  passed  Maloca  if  they  would  behave  them- 
selves meanwhile.  If  they  gave  this  undertaking 
they  might  have  free  run  of  the  ship  and  every 
consideration  as  passengers.  With  this  they  nat- 
urally agreed.  We  then  took  the  river  boat  a 
little  way  off  and  anchored  her  with  an  insulting 
letter  to  the  Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Company 
tacked  up  in  her  pilot  house,  and  there,  for  all  I 
know,  she  remains  to  this  day. 

There  is,  in  the  voyage  of  a  ship,  a  dramatic 
quality  not  often  equalled  in  other  commercial 
ventures.  When  the  Martin  Connor  hove  up  her 
hook  and  started  homeward  there  was  not  a  man 
aboard  her  that  did  not  feel,  in  varying  degrees 
according  to  his  powers  of  perception,  this 
dramatic  quality  of  which  I  speak.  There  was 
no  chanty  to  be  raised  as  an  outlet  for  emo- 
tions, the  very  modern  and  efficient  steam  cap- 
stan did  its  work,  and  once  more  the  ship  began 
to  vibrate  to  the  pulse  of  the  smooth-running 
engines. 

We  negotiated  the  Western  Passage  in  a  man- 
ner startling  to  the  oldest  sailor  aboard,  for 
the  swift-running  stream  became  almost  rapids 
in  places  owing  to  the  corkscrew  current,  and  to 


304  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

shoot  rapids  in  an  ocean-going  ship  is  a  matter  to 
lift  one's  hair  from  its  roots. 

The  Rio  Maranon  Company  was  ready  for 
us,  first,  at  Maioca,  where  the  crew  of  the  river 
boat  had  long  since  arrived.  The  captain  had 
arranged  to  pass  Maioca  at  daybreak,  intending 
to  rush  the  situation.  But  there  must  have  been 
some  one  on  the  lookout  for  us,  while  the  moment 
or  two  taken  in  dropping  our  prisoners  in  a  boat 
(we  left  them  the  boat)  gave  time  for  every  one 
in  Maioca  to  come  forth  with  rifles,  and  we  fled 
past  in  a  rain  of  bullets  that  rang  and  clattered 
about  the  iron  ship  while  we  crouched  in  shelter. 
Captain  Hawks,  from  inside  the  iron  charthouse, 
blew  blasts  upon  the  whistle  in  answer,  and 
Wilfred,  at  great  risk  to  himself,  crawled  across 
the  deck  and,  opening  one  of  the  swing-scuppers 
an  inch  or  two,  replied  with  very  accurate  rifle 
fire,  for  I  was  watching  with  the  glasses  through 
another  scupper  in  the  stern.  In  little  over  four 
minutes  we  were  gone  by,  but  it  was  a  fine, 
lively  moment  or  two. 

At  nights,  when  we  anchored,  we  patrolled  the 
river  round  the  ship  with  a  boat  and  returned  to 
sea  conditions,  standing  watches  throughout  the 
twenty-four  hours.  At  this  work  we  had  one  or 
two  alarms,  but  the  intruders  always  turned  out 
to  be  river  Indians  desirous  of  selling  fish !  And 
as  the  days  and  nights  passed  in  vigilant  un- 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  305 

eventfulness  a  spirit  of  unrest  crept  through  the 
ship.  Was  n't  the  mighty  Rio  Maranon  Com- 
pany going  to  put  up  some  kind  of  fight  at  all? 
As  for  the  captain  and  myself,  this  calm  was  very 
grateful.  To  be  quite  truthful,  we  wanted  to  get 
out  of  that  country,  and  if  there  was  no  fight- 
ing the  sooner  should  we  escape.  However,  this 
apparent  inaction  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  was 
suspicious  and  we  never  relaxed  one  moment  of 
watchfulness.  The  days  and  nights  followed,  and 
once  in  the  main  Amazon  stream  we  were  often 
able  to  steam  at  full  speed  through  most  of  the 
night  or  as  long  as  the  moon  lasted. 

"I  don't  understand  it!"  said  the  captain, 
puzzled  and  uneasy;  "there  must  be  something 
coming,  but  I  wish  I  knew  what  it  was!" 

As  for  the  crew  they  were  openly  contemptu- 
ous and  disappointed,  while  Wilfred  would  spit 
eloquently  whenever  he  happened  to  mention  the 
name  of  the  Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Company,  and 
it  would  be  hard  to  be  ruder  than  that. 

But  the  days  went  on  and  the  nights  went  on, 
and  in  this  anticlimax  we  all,  I  think,  in  our  dif- 
ferent ways,  suffered  various  forms  of  "nerves"; 
for  to  be  momentarily  expecting  an  attack  that 
does  not  come  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  trials 
to  bear.  With  the  river  current  to  help  us  our 
mileage  per  twenty-four  hours  down-stream  was 
a  very  different  matter  from  our  distances  run 


306  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

while  steaming  up.  We  passed  Manaos  before 
Manaos  had  time  to  grasp  the  fact,  and  no  hint 
was  made  of  stopping  us.  And  then,  one  day, 
we  passed  a  Liverpool  steamer  inward-bound. 
We  regarded  her  with  hungry  intensity,  for,  to 
us,  after  what  we  had  been  through,  her  efficient 
and  seagoing  appearance  was  strangely  affecting. 
She  blew  us  a  salute  upon  her  whistle,  and  her 
Old  Man  upon  his  bridge  exchanged  a  wave  with 
Captain  Hawks.  Oh,  it  was  fine  to  see  white  men 
again,  and  to  come  in  touch  with  the  sane,  clean, 
organised  world  once  more!  That  Liverpool 
steamer,  with  her  white  awnings  and  paintwork 
and  her  shining  brass,  was  a  sample  of  all  we  had 
left  and  all  we  were  returning  to.  It  was  like 
meeting  a  decent  individual  in  a  dangerous  city 
slum!  Then  the  forest  resumed  its  preponder- 
ance in  the  landscape  and  we  continued  on  and 
on,  awaiting,  ready,  some  obscure  attack  that 
never  came. 

It  is  difficult  for  me  to  describe  how  sick  we  had 
all  become  of  that  evil  country,  of  the  colour  and 
smell  of  the  water,  of  the  unending  wall  of  trees, 
of  the  ever-present  dripping  heat,  of  the  wholly 
damnable  insects.  But  the  thought  of  home, 
of  the  healthy,  wind-swept  open  sea  kept  our 
spirits  up.  I  now  do  not  wonder  at  men  becoming 
worse  than  savages  after  years  in  such  a  place. 

Every  ounce  of  which  the  ship  was  capable  was 


A  RAID  BY  NIGHT  307 

pressed  out  of  her  by  Mr.  McLushley  without 
an  undue  consumption  of  coal.  Even  his  iron 
and  leather  constitution  had  not  improved  and 
though  he  said  nothing  in  particular  he  was  as 
anxious  to  leave  those  forests  and  rotting  jungles 
and  fevers  as  any  of  us. 

We  were  now,  practically  speaking,  out  of  the 
Rio  Maranon  Company's  country,  though  we 
kept  a  bright  lookout  for  trouble.  But  no  fur- 
ther trouble  awaited  us,  which  worried  us  not 
a  little,  until  we  arrived  at  Para,  where  surprises 
came  thick  and  fast. 

To  begin  with,  we  found  that  Mr.  Alonzo 
Makepeace  Massingbird  had  been  a  naturalised 
citizen  of  the  United  States;  and  the  interna- 
tional difficulties  concerning  his  death  fell  from 
the  problem  beneath  the  capable  hands  of  the 
American  Consul  at  Para.  He  had  everything  in 
readiness  for  us,  with  legal  assistance;  and  after 
a  sweating,  steaming  morning  and  afternoon  the 
incident  was  closed  with  a  reprimand  and  a  din- 
ner. But  that  was  not  the  only  surprise. 

The  Rio  Maranon  Rubber  Company  had  gone 
into  liquidation! 

This  was  due  to  a  sudden  depression  following 
upon  an  inflated  boom  in  rubber,  the  organised 
competition  offered  by  the  Malay  States  and 
Ceylon,  the  manipulation  of  rubber  markets  by 
a  European  ring,  the  impossibly  high  freights 


308  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

i 

demanded  both  upon  the  upper  river  and  for 
oversea  transport,  the  excessively  high  cost  of 
living  and  therefore  of  production  in  the  upper 
Amazon  country,  and  last,  but  not  least,  to  the 
general  shocking  mismanagement  and  devilish 
habits  of  the  Rio  Maranon  rubber  collectors. 

At  the  news  of  the  practical  death  of  the  Rio 
Maranon  Company,  a  most  extraordinary  change 
came  over  the  face  of  Eichholz !  He  altered,  liter- 
ally, in  a  moment.  His  tragic  mask  fell  from  him; 
it  was  almost  uncanny  and  profoundly  moving. 
With  his  freedom  there  had  come  another  man, 
and  since  the  Rio  Maranon  was  now  non-existent, 
so  far  as  its  power  to  injure  him  was  concerned, 
he  bade  us  good-bye  at  Para,  intending  to  wait 
a  little  and  grow  more  used  to  a  less  extra-tropi- 
cal climate  before  leaving  that  part  of  South 
America  altogether.  So  he  passed  out  of  our 
lives,  a  strange,  interesting,  and  attractive  man, 
horribly  punished  for  his  sins,  yet  picking  up  his 
life  and  continuing  with  fortitude  and  fine  spirit. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TWO  AND  THREE  QUARTERS  MILLIONS  IN   GOLD 

IT  was  early  upon  a  fine,  merrily  tempestuous 
morning,  with  a  strong  breeze  blowing  steady 
and  warm,  that  the  vast  muddy  prospect  of  the 
estuary  gave  place  to  the  clean  blue  ocean  before 
the  bows  of  the  Martin  Connor.  Across  the  great 
arch  of  the  sky  were  hurrying  clusters  of  bril- 
liant clouds,  and  the  fresh  salt  wind  rippled  the 
tightly  stretched  awnings.  An  hilarious  spirit 
prevailed,  and  when,  at  first  imperceptibly,  the 
ship  began  to  lift  to  the  great  Atlantic  seas  after 
being  so  long  in  the  stagnant  stillness  of  the 
Amazon,  there  was  a  cheer  in  every  heart  aboard 
her.  The  ship  herself  seemed  to  catch  the  mood, 
and  she  rolled  and  pitched  like  a  living  thing  set 
free,  and  oh,  the  pleasure  of  those  swinging  decks 
—  to  feel  the  ship  once  more  a  ship  at  sea,  with 
the  strong  salt  air  humming  in  the  scanty  wire 
rigging !  And  the  cleansing  purity  of  the  sea  and 
the  lofty,  wind-borne  flights  of  spray  seemed  to 
wash  us,  as  though  with  antiseptics,  of  all  the 
horrors,  the  fevers,  and  the  wickedness  of  that 
great  and  sinister  river. 

Only  two  members  of  the  ship's  company  were 
unhappy  at  the  movement.    They  were  Mary- 


310  THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

jane,  the  Indian,  and  Percy,  Wilfred's  alligator. 
Maryjane  had  been  deeply  offended  at  the 
suggestion  that  we  should  leave  him  at  Para 
where  the  American  Consul  had  promised  to 
find  him  a  job.  So  there  was  nothing  else  to  do 
but  take  him  with  us,  though  after  a  few  hours 
in  the  open  Atlantic  Maryjane  would  have  will- 
ingly been  back  in  his  native  swamps.  However, 
seasickness  did  him  no  harm,  and  he  is  now, 
I  understand,  following  the  useful  and  placid 
occupation  of  ship-keeper  in  Galveston.  Percy, 
the  alligator,  was  somewhat  discommoded  with 
the  salt  water.  But  his  cage  on  the  after  main- 
deck  was  as  dry  as  anywhere,  and  we  built  around 
him  a  shelter  of  blankets  and  canvas.  He  is  now, 
and  doubtless  always  will  be,  a  possession  of  the 
city  of  New  York,  where  he  occupies  the  distinc- 
tive position  of  being  the  largest  alligator  in  cap- 
tivity. He  is,  by  the  by,  a  crocodile  and  not  an 
alligator,  though  just  in  what  the  difference  con- 
sists I  do  not  know,  though  I  expect  Timothy 
Hanks  knows  and  understands! 

Stadger,  dumbfounded  at  the  moving  decks 
and  the  occasional  swilling  of  the  seas  through 
the  clanging  scuppers,  barked  himself  into  semi- 
hysteria  with  sharp  staccato  barks  that  went 
through  your  head  like  a  knife,  until  Wilfred, 
exasperated,  fell  to  hammering  his  hard  muscu- 
lar body  with  his  fists. 


MILLIONS  IN  GOLD  311 

On  the  voyage  home  Timothy  Hanks  com- 
pleted a  work  he  had  been  engaged  upon  which 
he  entitled  "Notes  upon  the  River  Amazon,"  a 
compilation  of  facts  and  figures  as  unenlightened 
and  as  correct  as  an  invoice;  the  publication  of 
which,  in  a  scientific  journal,  brought  him  fame 
in  a  quiet  way. 

Captain  Hawks,  from  the  latest  figures  obtain- 
able in  Para,  computed  that  we  had  over  two 
and  three  quarters  millions  of  dollars'  worth  of 
gold  on  board  at  a  conservative  estimate. 

"Not  bad,  for  a  single  cruise,  Grummet,"  said 
he  with  a  grin. 

"No,  sir,  not  bad." 

We  were  in  the  charthouse,  the  doors  hooked 
back  to  the  clean  sea  wind.  Captain  Alexander 
Ester kay,  feeling  cold,  filled  one  end  of  the  settee; 
Colonel  Ezra  Calvin,  long,  loose-jointed,  and 
angular,  sat  in  the  other,  two  very  typical  speci- 
mens of  North  and  South.  Twocents,  in  obedi- 
ence to  a  call,  arrived  with  a  muffler  and  a  great- 
coat from  Captain  Esterkay's  cabin.  The  boy's 
appearance  was  greatly  changed  from  the  day  he 
had  given  chase  to  the  captain's  hat  upon  the 
wharf  at  Galveston.  He  was  not  much  fatter,  it 
is  true,  for  he  was  of  a  slim  habit  of  body.  The 
change  was  in  his  expression  and  in  his  bearing. 
A  boy  still,  but  a  boy  for  whom  the  world  had  its 
place,  and  for  whom  the  world  held  a  future.  His 


312          THE  MARTIN  CONNOR 

reclamation  was  complete.  There  was  nothing  of 
the  street-bred  urchin  left;  he  was  a  responsible, 
reputable  member  of  society.  Captain  Esterkay 
gave  him  two  years  at  a  technical  college,  then 
back  he  went  to  sea,  and  he  is  now,  so  I  have  just 
heard,  third  mate  in  a  good  line  of  fruit  steamers 
running  between  Cuba  and  New  York.  Some  day 
he  will  doubtless  have  his  own  command. 

"Two  an'  three  quarter  million!"  repeated 
Captain  Esterkay  in  a  mild  surprise;  "say, 
Matthew,  that's  all  —  all  right,  is  n't  it?" 

"It  is,  Alexander,  for  all  of  us,"  replied  the 
captain,  putting  away  his  papers  in  the  chart- 
house  desk. 

I  stepped  out  onto  the  bridge-deck  into  the 
warm  wind  and  sunshine.  The  horizon  was 
complete,  a  sharply  defined  ring  enclosing  the 
bright,  foam-patched,  flashing  sea.  'Arry  Ketch- 
old,  ponderous  and  slow,  moved  about  amid  the 
watch  that  was  busily  painting.  Mr.  Andrew 
Kinnaird  McLushley  sat  in  an  oil-stained  deck- 
chair  with  spectacles  on  his  nose,  deep  in  the 
poetry  of  Mrs.  Hemans. 

As  I  climbed  the  ladder  to  the  bridge  the  happy 
chant  of  the  engines  came  up  through  the  sky- 
lights, and  to  their  rhythmical  measure  Cert'nly 
Wilfred  in  the  galley  raised  his  voice  in  song. 

THE   END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000818597     7 


